ADVENTURES 


H.COLLINSON  OWEN 


The  Adventures 
of  Antoine 


.OF  CALitf1.    LiiiAiA.il, 


THE 

ADVENTURES    OF 
ANTOINE 


by 
H.   COLLINSON    OWEN 


THE    JAMES    A.    McCANN   COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 


Copyright    1922    by 
THE  JAMES  A.  McCANN   COMPANY 

AH    Rights   Reserved 


PRINTER  IN  THE  U.  S.  A. 


ToB 

In  remembrance  of  happy 
days  in  Paris 


2131823 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOE 

I    THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE    «    •    •    •    • 

II     "  LA  DOULOUREUSE  ".««.*••••  48 

III     THE  KINO  or  PARIS     .....••••  93 

IV    BLACKMAIL  FOR  Two  ...*•••••  129 

V     THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  .    •    •    .  166 

VI     THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  ...••••»  202 

VII     THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE  . 240 


The  Adventures 
of  Antoine 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF 
ANTOINE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  TEMPTATION   OF  ANTOINE 


WHY  La  Lumiere  ever  came  into  existence  is  neither 
here  nor  there  for  the  purpose  of  this  story.  News- 
papers, like  mushrooms,  spring  up  in  a  single  night  in 
Paris,  and  sometimes  last  but  little  longer.  La  Lumiere 
promised  to  be  something  of  the  kind  and  this  in  spite 
of  its  dignified  and  broad  survey  of  the  world's  activities, 
which  was  importantly  described  on  the  front  page  as 
"Political,  Literary,  Dramatic,  Social  and  Financial." 

Everybody  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  its 
purpose  in  life  sprang  directly  and  solely  from  the  last 
of  these.  Monsieur  Prosper  Leblanc,  its  proprietor, 
had  evidently  some  axe  to  grind  in  the  money  markets. 
What  it  might  be  was  entirely  his  own  aifair,  and  the 
staff  were  not  greatly  concerned  on  this  point,  nor  on 
M.  Leblanc's  reputation  as  a  financier.  He  provided  the 
motive  power  for  a  newspaper,  and  their  chief  desire 
was  that  he  might  continue  to  do  so,  no  matter  how 
he  obtained  it. 

Neither  the  establishment  nor  the  staff  of  La  Lumiere 
was  very  large.  Its  home  was  a  suite  of  offices  on  the 
Grands  Boulevards,  and  here  the  members  of  the  various 

1 


2          THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

departments,  Political,  Literary,  Social,  Dramatic  and 
Financial — little  more  than  a  dozen  souls  all  told — 
were  in  convenient  touch  with  each  other.  La  Lumiere 
had  no  printing  or  mechanical  staff.  The  paper  was 
produced  in  a  huge  building  not  far  off  in  a  side  street, 
where  a  score  of  other  newspapers  were  also  printed, 
turned  out  wholesale  like  flannel. 

La  Lumiere  had  now  been  in  existence  some  six  or 
seven  months  and  everybody  concerned  began  to  feel 
that  he  was  attached  to  an  old,  important  and  well- 
established  organ  of  public  opinion.  The  feeling  that 
any  evening  might  see  a  total  cessation  of  activities 
began  to  pass  away.  On  the  rare  occasions  when  M. 
Leblanc  appeared  at  the  office  he  seemed  to  be  perfectly 
well  satisfied  with  himself  and  the  world ;  and  the  staff, 
keenly  alive  to  every  facial  reading  in  its  proprietor, 
took  confidence  in  the  "set  fair"  marked  by  the 
barometer.  M.  Leblanc  had  also  said  that  the  paper 
pleased  him  very  much.  Then  all  was  well. 

Morissot,  who  was  responsible  for  the  political  side  of 
the  paper,  and  on  principle  fiercely  attacked  the  Gov- 
ernment every  night,  no  matter  how  hard  it  tried  to  do 
its  best,  suddenly  blossomed  into  a  monocle,  and  replaced 
his  soft  felt  hat  by  an  impeccable  and  shining  silk 
topper ;  un  huit  reflets  that  had  glitteringly  caught  his 
eye  one  bright  afternoon  as  he  walked  to  the  office,  and 
captured  him  on  the  spot.  The  spirit  of  his  example 
ran  through  the  office.  His  colleagues  felt  this  was  a 
portent  that  could  not  be  ignored.  Morissot  evidently 
knew  something — and  from  then  the  apparel  of  the 
staff  of  La  Lumiere  reflected  the  most  serene  optimism. 

When  work  was  over,  at  some  time  after  midnight, 
it  was  the  custom  of  the  staff  to  meet  in  a  small  cafe 
near  the  offices,  just  round  the  corner  from  the  Boule- 
vard. They  had  so  met  from  the  earliest  days  when 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE  3 

the  most  sanguine  of  them  gave  the  paper  no  more  than 
a  month  or  so  of  life,  and  when  the  topic  of  conversation 
dealt  exclusively  with  one  subject — 'the  question  of  the 
vitality  or  otherwise  of  La  Lumiere.  The  custom  had 
continued,  although  now  that  securer  and  brighter  days 
(had  arrived  there  was  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  one  or 
two — Morissot,  for  instance,  and  Bourdot,  an  elegant 
'individual  whose  keen  pleasure  it  was  to  chronicle  the 
doings  of  the  smart  and  worldly  side  of  Paris — not  to 
consort  quite  so  freely  with  the  general  run  of  the  staff. 

But  there  was  one  gathering  every  month  .which  was 
attended  religiously  by  all.  This  was  on  the  last  Friday, 
when  Antoine  Poiret,  the  general  business  manager,  ad- 
vertisement manager  and  cashier  combined,  paid  out 
salaries.  In  the  early  days  the  payment  of  salaries 
'had  seemed  a  monthly  miracle,  so  that  it  had  always 
been  celebrated  by  a  general  visit  to  the  Cafe  de  la 
Bonne  Biere.  This  had  gradually  developed  so  that 
the  staff  assembled  first  at  the  cafe,  and  Antoine,  as 
the  cashier  was  generally  known,  came  round  and  paid 
them  there,  handing  the  salary  packets  out  to  the  staff 
i&s  they  sat  at  the  little  tables.  To  see  Antoine  bustle 
in,  smiling,  conscious  of  the  importance  of  his  task,  his 
pockets  bulging  with  money  which  he  handed  over 
with  an  air,  was  a  splendid  sight. 

As  was  natural  in  the  circumstances,  and  not  only 
because  of  them,  he  was  very  popular.  And  this  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  man  with  one  dominat- 
ing idea  in  life.  Usually  people  whose  minds  dwell 
mainly  on  one  thing  are  very  boring.  But  nobody  at 
La  Lumiere  thought  of  calling  Antoine  a  bore.  His 
appearance  on  the  evening  of  the  last  Friday  in  every 
month  meant  too  much. 

Antoine's  passion  in  life  was  a  roulette  system  with 
which  he  was  sure  he  could  make  a  huge  fortune  at 


4  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Monte  Carlo.  He  had  spent  years  on  its  study,  and 
'had  tested  it  in  every  possible  way,  save  at  the  tables 
themselves.  He  had  never  been  able  to  do  this  for  the 
simple  reason  that  he  had  never  been  able  to  possess 
himself  of  twenty  thousand  francs.  And  this  was  the 
precise  sum  he  needed  in  order  to  put  his  wonderful 
gold  by  the  barrel,"  he  would  say. 
system  into  operation. 

"Give  me  twenty  thousand  francs,  and  you  shall  have 

Nobody  had  ever  trusted  'him  with  twenty  thousand 
francs,  and  it  was  the  grief  of  his  life.  He  had  tried 
to  amass  it,  but  without  success.  It  is  a  stupid  world. 

'I't  seems  *so  absurd,"  Antoine  would  cry.  "Cristi, 
all  I  need  is  twenty  thousand  francs  and  a  fortune  is 
made!  And  yet  nobody  will  ;lend  me  this  miserable 
sum."  And  Friday  evening  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Bonne 
Biere  never  passed  without  a  lecture  from  Antoine  on 
the  virtues  of  'his  system,  and  a  lament  that  he  could 
not  raise  the  necessary  capital  to  set  the  wheel  of  for- 
tune turning. 

It  was  six  o'clock  on  a  fine  Friday  evening  in  spring, 
and  the  staff  was  gathered  according  to  custom  in  the 
cafe.  Half  an  hour  passed,  and  there  were  remarks 
that  Antoine  for  once  was  late.  Another  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  one  of  the  younger  members  was  sent  to 
see  what  was  detaining  the  cashier.  He  came  back 
with  the  news  that  Antoine  was  not  to  be  found  in  the 
offices,  nor  could  he  hear  anything  of  him.  Old  Jean, 
the  doorkeeper,  who  sat  in  the  outer  office  to  deal  with 
callers,  said  that  he  had  not  seen  Monsieur  Poiret  all 
the  afternoon. 

There  was  a  little  movement  of  disquiet  amongst  the 
staff  at  this  news. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  asked  the  elegant  Bourdot, 
looking  round  at  the  rest. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE  5 

"That  there  are  no  salaries,  sapristi,"  exclaimed 
Morissot. 

"Let's  hope  he  hasn't  gone  to  Monte  Carlo,"  said 
somebody  with  a  laugh. 

"But  you've  said  it,"  cried  Morissot.  "That's  where 
he  has  gone  to." 

Morissot,  tall  and  cadaverous,  was  usually  so  self- 
contained,  so  calm  and  completely  master  of  himself, 
that  his  present  excitement  caused  something  like  con- 
sternation. 

"How  do  you  know?"  came  a  startled  chorus. 

"Intuition — putting  two  and  two  together — what 
you  will.  I  feel  that  it  is  so.  I  happen  to  know  that 
Antoine  was  to  touch  a  large  sum  of  money  from  the 
patron  this  week.  It  was  to  start  a  big  advertising 
campaign  for  the  paper.  For  the  first  time  he  has 
found  twenty  thousand  francs,  or  more,  in  his  posses- 
sion. The  temptation  has  been  too  much  for  him. 
He's  gone  to  try  that  sacre  system  of  his.  He'll  lose 
every  centime,  of  course,  and  if  they  catch  him  he'll  go 
to  prison.  But  what  good  will  that  do  us?  And  what 
will  Leblanc  do?  Is  he  going  to  continue  running  a 
paper  when  the  cashier  bolts  with  the  funds  ?  No !  It 
may  mean  the  end  of  our  jobs!  It  may  mean  the  end 
of  La  Lumiere!  Voila  ou  nous  en  sommes!  " 

Morissot  delivered  this  disquieting  discourse  almost 
without  taking  breath,  his  eyes  growing  more  startled 
every  moment.  When  he  had  finished  there  was  a  dead 
silence.  The  blow  was  a  heavy  one. 

"But  perhaps  he  may  still  turn  up,"  a  faint  voice 
said  at  last. 

An  excited  torrent  of  conversation  broke  out  at  this, 
but  no  one  could  extract  consolation  from  his  fellows. 
Everybody  suddenly  felt  that  Morissot's  version  was 
only  too  likely  to  prove  true.  The  twenty  thousand 


6          THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

francs,  the  eternal  system!  Antoine,  after  all,  was  a 
monomaniac.  He  was  the  last  man  to  be  trusted  with 
money.  Why  had  somebody  not  thought  of  it  before? 

Dejectedly  the  staff  filed  out  into  the  offices  of 
La  Lumiere,  but  with  no  heart  for  work.  To  Morissot 
it  seemed  useless  to  attack  the  Government,  when  there 
•were  people  like  Antoine  about!  To  Bourdot  for  the 
first  time  the  doings  of  the  Smart  Set  of  Paris  seemed' 
a  vain  thing.  What  did  these  people  know  of  troubles, 
of  the  cold  shock  when  the  cashier  runs  away  with  the 
salaries? 

The  wise  suggestion  was  made  that  M.  Leblanc 
should  be  communicated  with  at  once,  and  acquainted 
with  the  matter.  A  council  was  held,  and  Bourdot  was 
unanimously  selected  as  the  office  representative. 

Feeling  very  strongly  the  gravity  and  importance  of 
his  mission,  Bourdot  sat  down  at  the  telephone.  After 
some  trouble  he  got  the  proprietor's  number.  A  circle 
of  white  faces  was  ranged  round  him.  The  staff  pre- 
pared to  hear  one  side  of  the  fateful  conversation. 

"Is  it  that  Monsieur  Leblanc  is  there?"  they  heard 
Bourdot  say  suavely,  in  his  silkiest  man-about-town 
tones.  Then  his  face  turned  a  shade  paler,  and  he 
dropped  the  receiver  with  a  tragic  gesture. 

"What  is  it?"  they  shouted  in  chorus. 

"Monsieur  Leblanc  has  gone  on  a  business  trip  to 
Milan  and  will  not  be  back  for  a  week,"  said  Bourdot 
simply. 

Black  gloom,  hopeless  despair  settled  down  on  the 
office.  Antoine  gone!  A  month's  salary  gone!  The 
patron  gone!  The  whole  staff  at  that  moment  would 
have  found  difficulty  in  mustering  fifty  francs.  The 
situation  was  tragic.  The  readers  of  La  Lumiere  next 
morning  little  knew  what  misery  there  was  to  be  read 
between  the  lines  of  placid  and  unemotional  type. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE 


II 


ANTOINE  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  night  rapide,  bound  for 
Monte  Carlo.  The  journey  was  an  hour  old,  but  his 
face  was  flushed  and  his  heart  beating  high. 

The  temptation  bad  fallen  on  him  late  that  after- 
noon, when  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had  held  the 
desired  twenty  thousand  francs  in  his  hands — nay,  more, 
thirty  thousad!  M.  Leblanc's  own  hurried  journey  to 
Milan  accounted  for  this.  He  was  not  the  sort  of  man 
to  leave  money  lying  about  loosely,  but  in  the  midst  of 
a  discussion  with  Antoine  in  his  office  on  the  subject  of 
the  advertising  campaign  the  telephone  on  his  desk  rang. 
M.  Leblanc  picked  up  the  receiver  carelessly. 

"Allo!"  he  said.  "Oui,  c'est  moi.  What!  To-day! 
Impossible."  Then  he  was  quiet  a  little  while,  listening. 

"Ah,  the  villain!"  he  cried.  "So  it's  like  that,  is  it. 
We'll  see  about  that.  I'll  show  him.  Yes,  yes!  The 
six  o'clock  train.  I'll  be  there !"  And  he  dropped  the 
receiver. 

He  jumped  up  impulsively  and  paced  the  floor,  his 
face  working  with  excitement. 

"Listen,  Poiret,"  he  exclaimed,  looking  down  on  the 
cashier  of  La  Lumiere.  "I'm  called  away  to  Milan  at 
once.  It  is  an  awkward  moment,  but  there  is  a  very 
big  affair  on  there.  And  Bernard,  you  know  Bernard, 
'he's  trying  to  cut  me  out.  I've  just  been  told  on  the 
telephone  there.  I'll  show  him,  a  fourth-rate  dabbler 
in  other  people's  money,  whether  he  can  get  the  better 
of  a  man  like  me.  I'll  show  him!"  M.  Leblanc  was 
very  excited,  and  paced  the  floor  again. 

"Now  look  here,  Poiret.  I  want  that  advertising 
business  put  in  hand  at  once.  You  know  now  what  lines 
to  go  upon.  I  shall  be  back  within  a  week.  .  .  .  By 


8  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

that  time  I  shall  expect  to  see  matters  well  on  their 
way." 

He  turned  to  a  large  safe  let  in  the  wall,  unlocked  it 
and  took  out  a  black  box.  From  this  he  took  a  sheaf  of 
notes  and  counted  out  a  certain  number. 

"Here  are  thirty  thousand  francs — thirty  of  a  thou- 
sand each.  You  will  bank  these  this  afternoon,  retain- 
ing sufficient  for  salaries  and  the  usual  expenses  of  the 
month.  Get  on  to  those  posters  at  once — something 
striking,  you  know,  vivid.  And  now  au  v'oir.  See  that 
you  have  good  progress  to  report  when  I'm  back." 

And  M.  Leblanc,  who  had  never  heard  that  the 
cashier  of  La  Lumiere  had  a  consuming  passion,  turned 
to  'his  preparations  for  the  journey  to  Milan. 

As  for  Antoine,  he  found  himself  in  the  sunny  street 
with  a  pocket  that  bulged  with  notes ;  lovely  large  blue 
banknotes  for  a  thousand  francs  each,  thirty  of  them. 
His  head  swam  a  little.  He  felt  uncertain  of  his  steps. 

He  turned  into  a  small  cafe  and  sat  down,  to  try  and 
think.  Since  the  patron  gave  him  the  money  he  'had  not 
uttered  a  word.  He  had  not  had  a  chance  to.  He  had 
simply  been  pushed  out  into  the  street  with  a  small  for- 
tune in  his  pocket. 

Before  Antoine's  eyes  came  a  vision  of  a  green  cloth 
with  a  wheel  spinning  in  the  center  of  it,  and  an  ivory 
ball  that  jumped  and  clicked.  Here  at  last  fortune 
was  in  his  grasp.  He  had  only  to  borrow  the  money 
for  a  short  time,  go  to  Monte  Carlo,  make  a  fortune, 
and  return,  showering  gold  on  his  friends.  No  doubt 
the  fellows  at  the  office  would  be  a  little  annoyed  at  the 
temporary  dislocation  of  their  affairs.  But  they  would 
soon  forgive  that  when  they  found  their  month's  sala- 
ries doubled,  nay  trebled,  and  more.  And  there  would 
be  no  real  reason  even  to  tell  them  where  he  'had  gone. 
He  could  be  back  in  a  few  days  and  pretend  he  had 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE  9 

been  ill,  anything.  And  after  all,  all  things  are  for- 
given to  the  man  who  is  successful. 

Antoine  had  already  fallen.  It  was  not,  he  told  him- 
self, as  if  there  were  any  dishonesty  about  it.  It  was 
not  as  though  there  were  any  possible  doubt  about  his 
system.  He  knew  that  it  would  succeed.  He  had 
studied  the  mystery  of  roulette  for  years.  He  had  a 
library  of  books  about  it.  Every  week  he  bought  on 
the  boulevards  a  little  paper  which  gave  the  sequence 
of  spins  at  Monte  Carlo  for  every  table  during  the  pre- 
ceding seven  days.  He  had  tested  his  system  thor- 
oughly. It  could  not  fail. 

Dishonest!  Nonsense.  He  would  be  a  benefactor 
to  the  whole  of  the  staff,  and  they  would  bless  him.  He 
could  run  papers  of  his  own. 

Anything !  He  would  be  on  the  plane  of  M.  Leblanc 
himself — aye,  even  richer  and  not  so  unscrupulous !  He 
rose  feeling  that  the  world  had  turned  golden. 

The  only  thing  necessary  was  speed.  A  day  to  go. 
Two,  perhaps  three,  to  enable  his  system  to  put  forth 
its  real  strength.  A  day  to  return.  Five  days.  That 
would  be  sufficient.  There  would  be  anxiety  at  the  office 
while  'he  was  away.  But  they  would  not  know  where  he 
was.  He  would  not  be  disturbed.  And  think  of  the 
joy  that  would  greet  him  on  his  return ! 

The  night  train  went  at  nine  o'clock.  He  had,  then, 
over  three  hours  to  exist  as  best  he  could  before  he 
could  start  for  the  south  and  fortune.  He  sat  on  in  the 
cafe,  and  the  minutes  seemed  to  drag  by.  The  evening 
papers  came,  and  he  seized  them  eagerly,  but  found  he 
could  not  read  them.  For,  ever  dancing  before  his 
eyes,  was  that  vision  of  the  green  cloth,  with  the  spin- 
ning roulette  wheel  and  the  jingling  gold  pieces.  He 
had  never  actually  seen  it,  but  it  seemed  to  him  the  most 
familiar  thins:  in  the  world. 


10        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

He  decided  on  an  early  dinner,  and  went  to  a  quiet 
little  restaurant  where  he  would  meet  nobody.  Seven 
o'clock  came  as  he  was  sipping  his  coffee.  They  would 
be  waiting  for  him  now  in  the  Cafe  de  la  Bonne  Biere. 
Ah,  well !  It  was  a  pity  that  his  good  confreres  should 
be  put  to  any  inconvenience,  but  their  trouble  would 
soon  be  over  and  more  than  repaid. 

He  settled  his  bill,  and  took  a  fiacre  to  his  modest 
rooms  in  Montmartre.  There  he  packed  a  bag  leisurely, 
thoughtfully  putting  in  a  panama  hat  to  protect  him- 
self against  the  brilliant  sun  of  Monte  Carlo.  The  cab 
took  him  slowly  on  the  long  drive  across  the  city  to  the 
Gare  de  Lyon.  Antoine  saw  with  relief  that  he  had 
now  only  half  an  hour  to  wait. 

He  changed  one  of  the  thousand-franc  notes  to  buy 
his  ticket.  The  booking  clerk  looked  the  note  over  with 
some  care. 

"Come,  come!  It  is  a  good  one,"  said  Antoine.  "I 
have  others  like  it." 

"Monsieur  is  lucky,"  returned  the  booking  clerk. 

"He  little  knows  how  lucky,"  said  Antoine  to  him- 
self, and  walked  gaily  to  the  train. 


Ill 


AT  about  the  very  moment  when  Antoine  was  buying 
his  ticket  at  the  station,  Morissot  looked  up  wearily 
from  the  article  he  was  writing  dealing  with  the  mani- 
fold iniquities  of  the  Government.  "And  does  this  col- 
lection of  suborned  nondescripts  think  that  the  electors 
of  France  .  .  ."he  was  writing.  But  he  really  felt 
very  little  interest  in  the  wrongs  of  the  electors  of 
France.  A  month's  salary! 

Suddenly  he  sat  up  and  uttered  a  cry. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         11 

"Sacrebleu!  Why  did  I  not  think  of  it  before.  Hey 
there,  everybody.  Come  here." 

Doors  flew  open.     He  was  surrounded  at  once. 

"Antoine  has  gone  to  Monte  Carlo,"  he  cried  to  his 
audience.  "If  he  goes  to-night  he  takes  the  nine 
o'clock  train.  Quick !  I'll  stop  him !  Money !  A  taxi 
will  just  do  it!  Vite,  vite!" 

"I'll  come  with  you,"  cried  Bourdot.  "The  fare  for 
two  will  cost  no  more." 

There  was  a  hurried  turning  out  of  pockets,  and  a 
minute  later  the  two  were  bounding  down  the  stairs 
with  some  twenty  francs  between  them. 

"Finish  my  article,  somebody,"  shouted  Morissot. 
"Make  it  clear  that  the  Government  is  the  worst  that 
ever  afflicted  France."  And  they  were  gone. 

On  the  boulevard  they  found  a  taxi  just  passing  the 
door,  and  the  driver,  stimulated  by  the  promise  of  a 
five-franc  tip,  bounded  like  the  wind  to  the  Gare  de  Lyon. 
With  the  best  of  luck  they  would  only  just  do  it.  The 
two  sat  there  consumed  with  anxiety  and  impatience, 
too  emotional  to  speak. 

They  had  less  than  five  minutes  in  hand  when  the 
taxi  drew  up  at  the  big  station.  A  good  minute  was 
lost  in  purchasing  platform  tickets,  without  which 
they  were  helpless.  They  das'hed  through  the  barrier 
and  in  their  excitement  turned  into  the  wrong  plat- 
form. Doubling  back  they  took  the  right  turning 
just  as  the  controleurs  were  closing  the  carriage  doors 
of  the  stately  Cote  d'Azur  Rapide.  Breathless,  their 
hearts  pumping,  they  ran  down  the  train,  gazing 
feverishly  into  the  the  windows.  Suddenly  Morissot 
stopped,  and  pointed  wildly. 

"Voila !"  he  gasped,  with  his  last  breath. 

There  was  Antoine  reclining  comfortably  in  the  far 
corner  of  a  carriage.  They  rapped  on  the  window, 


12    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

but  Antoine,  wrapped  in  his  dream,  did  not  see  them. 
An  old  gentleman  in  a  skull  cap  and  velvet  jacket, 
sitting  near  the  window,  gazed  at  them  angrily. 

"Quick!"  cried  Morissot.  "We  cannot  lose  him 
like  this.  We  must  board  the  train  at  all  costs.  We 
will  make  him  pay." 

"En  voiture,  en  voi — tu — re,"  they  were  shouting 
on  the  platform.  The  train  gave  a  jerk  and  began  to 
roll  along. 

The  two  friends  ran  desperately  along  the  rapide 
seeking  a  way  in.  But  the  big  heavy  doors  to  the 
long  corridor  coaches  were  now  closed,  and  it  seemed 
impossible  for  them  to  jump  in.  They  hesitated  and 
were  nearly  lost.  But  as  the  train  rolled  majestically 
past  them  Morissot  noticed  an  open  door  in  the  rear 
coac'h. 

"Run!"  he  shouted,  and  they  dashed  to  meet  it. 
Morissot  scrambled  in,  Bourdot  followed  'him.  They 
stood  breathless  >and  helpless — but  safely  in  the 
corridor. 

"We  will  walk  along  to  his  carriage  presently  and 
reveal  ourselves  to  him,"  panted  Morissot.  "It  will 
be  a  big  surprise  to  Antoine." 

A  train  official  who  had  seen  their  hurried  and 
belated  entrance  came  walking  to  them  along  the 
corridor. 

"Your  tickets,  if  you  please,  Messieurs,"  he  said 
politely. 

It  was  an  awkward  moment.  Morissot  looked  at 
Bourdot.  Bourdot  looked  helplessly  at  Morissot. 

"The  fact  is  we  have  no  tickets,"  said  the  latter, 
after  a  lengthy  pause.  "We  caught  the  train  at  the 
last  moment,  and  had  no  time  to  book." 

"Where  are  you  going  to?"  The  man  looked  at 
them  suspiciously. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         13 

Again  the  two  exchanged  glances.  Bourdot  spoke 
this  time. 

"I  don't  know.  That  is,  we  are  going  to  Mar- 
seilles, and  on  to  Monte  Carlo." 

"Mais  impossible!"  The  ticket  inspector  spread 
out  his  hands.  "This  part  of  the  train  does  not  go  to 
Marseilles." 

"But  this  is  the  Cote  d'Azur  Rapide.  It  must  do!" 
they  exclaimed  together. 

"But,  Messieurs,  this  is  a  slip  coach.  It  is  discon- 
nected at  Melun,  and  the  rest  of  the  train  goes  on  with- 
out stopping." 

"Mon  Dieu,  then  we  are  lost,"  cried  Morissot. 

"del,  what  a  mess,"  exclaimed  Bourdot. 

The  inspector  pulled  out  a  little  book.  "First-class 
to  Melun.  That  will  be  ..." 

"Listen  a  moment,"  said  Bourdot  desperately.  "We 
have  a  friend  in  the  forward  part  of  the  train,  and  he 
has  all  our  money — yes,  by  Heaven,  all  of  it.  We  must 
get  to  him." 

"But  you  cannot.  This  coach  is  not  connected  up 
with  the  others.  The  corridor  ends  there."  He  turned 
and  pointed  to  the  end  of  the  coach. 

"Then  we  are  indeed  lost!"  said  Morissot  dramat- 
ically. "My  friend,  you  must  leave  this  matter  until 
we  get  to  Melun.  We  will  explain  all  there.  But  for 
the  moment  we  can  do  nothing." 

"Bien,"  said  the  inspector  doubtfully.  "Till  Melun, 
then.  We  shall  be  there  in  just  over  an  hour."  He 
left  them. 

"Ah,  that  cochon  of  a  Poiret,  to  get  us  in  this  mess. 
And  think,  mon  ami,  think  that  the  fat  rogue  is  sitting 
there  within  a  few  yards  of  us,  his  pockets  bulging 
with  our  money,  which  he  is  going  to  throw  away  on 


14         THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

the  tables  at  Monte  Carlo !"  Bourdot  clenched  his  fists 
in  impotent  rage. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  asked  Morissot.  "We  have 
missed  Antoine  and  we  haven't  enough  money  to  pay 
our  fares  when  we  get  to  Melun,  and  no  means  of  get- 
ting back  to  Paris." 

"Heaven  knows,"  exclaimed  Bourdot  desperately. 
He  started  to  pace  the  corridor  in  his  agitation.  Sud- 
denly he  came  back  to  Morissot,  a  new  expression  of 
hope  on  his  face. 

"Listen !  In  a  first-class  carriage  there,  alone,  I 
have  seen — whom  do  you  think?  None  other  than 
Monsieur  Victor  Bruant,  one  of  the  leading  directors 
of  this  railw?  y.  I  know  him.  I  was  once  able  to  do 
him  a  service  at  the  time  of  his  election  to  the  Senate. 
What  do  you  say  if  I  put  the  whole  case  before  him? 
He  may  help  us." 

"It  seems  like  Providence,"  exclaimed  Morissot.  "We 
will  tell  him  everything." 

Bourdot  entered,  followed  by  Morissot.  A  distin- 
guished and  well-preserved  gentleman  of  about  sixty, 
wearing  the  red  rosette  of  an  officier  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  looked  up  with  some  surprise  as  they  entered. 
Rapidly,  and  in  his  very  best  social  manner,  Bourdot 
introduced  himself.  M.  Bruant  was  graciously  pleased 
to  remember  the  circumstances  which  Bourdot  recalled. 

"I  have  something  important,  something  grave,  on 
•which  I  and  my  friend  and  confrere,  M.  Morissot  (he 
introduced  Morissot,  who  bowed),  would  wish  to  con- 
sult you." 

"Speak,"  said  M.  Bruant. 

Rapidly  Bourdot  told  the  whole  story — La  Lumicre, 
Antoine's  passion,  his  flight,  and  the  tragic  situation 
that  though  he  was  in  the  same  train  they  were  power- 
less to  stop  him  in  his  mad  course. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         15 

M.  Bruant  grew  interested  as  the  narrative  pro- 
ceeded. At  last  lie  spoke. 

"I  should  be  extremely  glad  to  help  you,  but  I  am 
afraid  that  even  I  must  not  stop  the  Cote  d'Azur  Rapide 
before  its  time.  But  my  suggestion  is  this.  At  Melun 
I  shall  be  able  to  make  all  easy  for  you.  From  there 
you  must  wire  to  the  police  at  Dijon  to  arrest  this  Poiret 
in  the  train,  and  hold  him  until  you  arrive.  I  shall  be 
able  to  facilitate  your  journey  to  that  point." 

"Tiens!  It  is  an  idea,"  exclaimed  Bourdot,  and  was 
immediately  profuse  in  his  thanks  for  M.  Bruant's  bril- 
liant idea  and  kind  help. 

"But  ought  we  to  drag  the  police  into  it?"  Morissot 
put  in.  "Ought  we  not  try  to  settle  it  without  their 
intervention?  After  all,  this  Antoine  has  behaved 
badly,  but  one  does  not  want  to  make  him  a  criminal. 
You  would  agree  with  us  if  you  knew  him." 

"An  excellent  sentiment,"  said  the  Senator.  "But 
show  me  another  way  of  stopping  him  from  squandering 
all  your  money.  And  then,  again,  if  this  matter  is 
arranged  amicably  at  Dijon,  and  you  bring  the  fugi- 
tive back  on  the  pretense  that  there  has  been  an  unfor- 
tunate misunderstanding  of  some  kind,  there  will  be  no 
need  for  further  police  interference." 

The  two  friends  saw  the  force  of  this,  and  so  it  was 
agreed. 

Shortly  afterwards  their  coach  stopped.  A  magic 
word  from  M.  Bruant  in  the  ear  of  the  chef-de-gare  at 
Melun  and  their  troubles  on  the  score  of  tickets  had 
vanished. 

"And  now  for  the  telegram,"  said  their  benefactor, 
as  they  stood  on  the  platform.  "Tell  me,  how  shall  we 
describe  this  Poiret?" 

They  gave  an   outline  of  Antoine's  appearance;  a 


16        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

little  vague  it  was,  a  small  pointed  beard  being  the  most 
striking  detail  in  their  description. 

"But  wait,"  said  Morissot.  "He  was  in  a  first-class 
carriage  of  the  second  coach  of  the  train,  and  his  only 
companion  was  an  old  white-haired  gentleman,  wearing 
a  black  skull-cap  and  velvet  jacket.  He  glared  at  us 
through  the  window." 

Monsieur  Bruant  seized  this  information  eagerly. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  said.  "With  your  permission, 
gentlemen,  I  will  send  this  telegram  from  the  station 
here  to  the  Dijon  police.  I  shall  be  able  to  expedite  it." 

They  thanked  him  again  profusely  as  he  disappeared. 
He  was  back  again  in  a  few  minutes. 

"I  think  we  shall  intercept  your  rogue  of  a  cashier 
all  right,"  he  said.  "I  will  arrange  for  you  to  go  down 
to  Dijon  by  the  first  fast  train  in  the  morning,  and  I 
trust  that  will  be  an  end  of  your  misfortunes.  And 
now,  gentlemen,  my  car  is  waiting  outside  the  station. 
My  chateau  is  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  drive  away.  I 
beg  of  you  to  be  my  guests  for  the  night." 

In  the  darkness  of  the  platform  the  two  confreres 
clasped  hands  fervently.  They  were  in  clover,  and  fol- 
lowed their  Providence  to  where  they  could  see  a  large 
motor-car  waiting  outside  the  station.  The  smile  of 
Fortune  was  directed  full  upon  them. 


IV 


ANTOINE,  lying  back  in  a  corner  of  the  comfortable 
first-class  carriage,  had  fallen  into  a  light  sleep,  in 
which  he  dreamed  that  he  was  rolling  down  the  hill  of 
Montmartre  in  a  barrel  of  gold.  The  train  stopped, 
and  he  awoke. 

Looking  through  the  window  he  found  that  they  had 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         17 

arrived  at  Dijon.  It  was  early  morning  and  the  move- 
ment and  bustle  of  the  station  sounded  loudly  in  the 
still  air.  His  one  companion  in  the  carriage  was  fast 
asleep,  with  his  mouth  open.  Antoine  had  tried  to  enter 
into  conversation  with  the  old  gentleman  in  the  skull 
cap,  but  had  found  him  quite  disinclined  to  make  chance 
acquaintances. 

There  was  a  sudden  rush  and  babble  of  voices  on  the 
platform,  and  Antoine  looking  through  the  window  saw 
under  the  light  of  the  lamps  a  Comimissaire  of  Police, 
girt  with  his  official  tricolor  sash,  accompanied  by  two 
policemen.  The  Commissaire  looked  excited  and  in- 
flated with  importance.  A  cold  feeling  coursed  down 
Antoine's  legs,  down  to  his  toes,  as  he  saw  the  emissaries 
of  the  law  were  boarding  the  coach  in  which  he  was. 

In  a  moment  he  heard  their  voices  in  the  corridor. 
He  was  consumed  with  fright,  and  had  he  not  been  for 
the  moment  physically  incapable  of  movement  he  would 
have  opened  the  window  and  dropped  out.  A  second 
later  the  Commissaire  stood  in  the  door  of  his  compart- 
ment, the  two  policemen  behind  him,  and  a  group  of 
railway  officials  behind  them. 

The  Commissaire  saw  the  sleeping  figure  of  the  old 
gentleman  with  the  skull  cap,  and  his  face  lit  up.  He 
glanced  at  a  telegram  in  his  hand,  and  then  without  a 
word  he  dropped  his  other  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
old  gentleman,  and  shook  him  vigorously. 

The  old  gentleman  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked  up. 

"What  is  it?"  he  demanded  testily,  in  the  tone  of 
one  who  is  not  accustomed  to  interference. 

"Your  name  is  Poiret,"  said  the  Commissaire,  bluntly 
and  loudly.  "Come  with  me." 

"My  name  is  not  Poiret,  and  I  shall  not  go  with  you," 
returned  the  victim,  with  spirit. 

"Hein!      What  do  you  say?"      The  Commissaire's 


18    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

voice  was  unnecessarily  loud,  but  he  felt  the  gravity  of 
his  mission.  "Your  name  is  not  Poiret!  That  is  too 
good.  I  suppose  next  you  will  be  telling  me  that  you 
are  not  old,  and  that  you  do  not  wear  a  skull  cap  and  a 
velvet  jacket.  You  know  what  I'm  here  for.  Will  you 
come  at  once,  or  will  you  be  carried?" 

The  old  gentleman  glared  at  his  tormentor,  bewildered 
and  angry. 

"You  are  mad,"  he  cried.  "My  name,  if  you  want 
to  know  it,  is  Robespierre,  and  I  live  in  the  Rue  du 
Cherche  Midi,  Paris.  And  now,  Monsieur,  if  you  don't 
mind,  will  you  please  take  away  your  detestable  presence 
and  let  me  go  to  sleep  again." 

The  Commissaire  laughed  in  rare  good  humor. 

"Robespierre!  That  is  good.  That's  a  new  trick. 
My  compliments.  But  people  don't  have  names  like 
that  nowadays.  You'll  be  saying  your  name's  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  next,  or  Charlemagne.  Attons!  Do  you 
shift,  or  do  I  call  my  men?" 

"Idiot — imbecile!"  hissed  the  old  gentleman.  He 
seemed  ready  to  froth  at  the  mouth.  "Touch  me  if  you 
dare !" 

"It  is  enough,"  said  the  officer  of  the  law,  his  official 
patience  at  an  end.  He  stood  aside  and  beckoned  to  his 
men.  They  approached  to  seize  the  little  man. 

But  he  suddenly  developed  the  energy  and  fury  of  a 
wild  cat.  In  a  moment  the  three  were  in  a  heap  on  the 
carriage  seat,  and  Antoine,  fascinated  and  horrified, 
watched  the  unequal  and  inelegant  struggle.  Numbers 
and  weight  told.  In  a  few  moments  the  little  gentleman, 
his  skull  cap  torn  off  showing  a  highly  polished  bald 
head,  was  secured;  breathless,  but  his  eyes  still  glaring, 
he  had  no  energy  left  for  further  speech,  but  as  he  was 
thrust  through  the  doorway  his  eyes  looked  devilish 
things  at  his  captors. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         19 

Antoine  felt  as  if  he  would  faint.  He  became  aware 
that  the  Commissaire,  still  in  the  doorway,  had  removed 
his  hat  and  had  turned  to  him  with  a  bow. 

"I  am  exceedingly  sorry,  Monsieur,  to  have  had  to 
derange  you,"  said  that  official,  with  a  charming  smile. 
"It  has  been  a  painful  scene,  but  it  is  my  duty.  You 
will  understand,  I  am  sure.  Bonne  nuit." 

Antoine  tried  to  speak,  but  only  made  a  noise  in  his 
throat.  With  another  smile  and  bow  the  Commissaire 
was  gone. 

Through  the  window  Antoine  saw  the  tragic  little 
group  cross  the  platform  and  enter  one  of  the  waiting- 
rooms.  The  old  gentleman  had  begun  to  kick  again, 
but  his  captors  held  him  firm.  Antoine  felt  as  if  he 
must  shriek  aloud.  And  then  the  train  moved  slowly 
out  of  the  station,  leaving  the  terrible  mistake  behind. 

He  wiped  his  brow,  which  was  clammy  and  cold.  It 
had  been  an  amazing  escape.  He  thanked  the  fates  that 
he  was  alone  in  the  carriage,  with  none  to  observe  his 
agitation. 

His  flight  was  discovered,  then,  and  somebody  was  on 
his  track.  But  who  could  it  be?  Leblanc  had  left  for 
Milan.  Then  it  must  be  somebody  at  the  office. 
Antoine  felt  reproachful  towards  them.  To  pursue 
him  in  such  brutal  fashion !  They  little  knew  what  he 
intended  doing  for  them.  Possibly  they  did  not  realize 
it  yet,  but  it  was  sheer  ingratitude. 

But  the  situation  was  now  altered.  He  was  not  now 
to  be  allowed  calmly  to  go  forward  with  his  scheme  at 
Monte  Carlo,  and  to  return  triumphantly  to  Paris 
burdened  with  money.  And  yet  he  could  not  renounce 
his  golden  project,  and  go  back  tamely  to  the  office  and 
apologize  for  his  absence.  What  was  he  to  do? 

His  mind  was  soon  made  up.  He  must  hurry  the 
affair.  Speed  was  necessary.  He  had  time.  The 


20         THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

regrettable  mistake  made  with  the  vigorous  old  gentle- 
man would  take  time  to  clear  up.  He  had  perhaps  two 
full  days  in  hand.  He  would  make  all  the  money  pos- 
sible in  the  shortest  time,  and  then  when  his  tormentors 
caught  him  up  he  would  say  finely,  with  a  contemptuous 
gesture:  "Void!  I  have  made  all  this.  Take  it!" 

Breakfast  time  found  him  at  Marseilles,  with  a 
golden  sun  in  a  blue  sky.  Antoine  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  strain  of  the  last  twelve  hours,  and  he  could  not 
drive  out  of  his  mind  the  picture  of  the  fiercely  strug- 
gling old  gentleman.  He  determined  to  seek  him  out 
later,  and  compensate  him  handsomely.  It  would  be  in 
his  power  to  be  generous,  and  make  amends  for  the 
error. 

"It  was  very  fortunate  for  me,  all  the  same,"  he 
murmured. 

The  train  ran  into  Monte  Carlo  station  shortly  after 
noon.  Antoine's  emotion,  when  at  last  his  feet  touched 
the  platform,  was  considerable.  He  could  hardly 
believe  it. 

"Enfin!"  he  murmured.  This  was  a  moment  which 
had  occupied  his  waking  and  dreaming  hours  for  half  a 
lifetime.  And  now  at  last  the  miracle  had  arrived.  He 
was  there,  at  Monte  Carlo,  with  the  necessary  money  in 
his  pocket  to  achieve  swift  fortune.  For  twenty  years 
he  had  desired  this  day.  He  could  have  embraced  the 
porter  who  picked  up  his  bag. 

"Why  are  you  not  rich?"  Antoine  asked  him  instead. 

"Monsieur  says  ?" 

"Why  are  you  not  rich?  You  live  in  Monte  Carlo. 
It  is  enough.  Why  do  you  carry  bags  ?" 

"Monsieur  is  joking,"  said  the  porter.  "Everybody 
is  not  rich  in  Monte  Carlo.  There  are  some  even  who 
come  here  rich,  and  leave  very  poor." 

"They  must  be  imbeciles,"  said  Antoine  with  decision. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         21 

He  felt  sorry  in  a  way  for  these  poor  devils.  His  heart 
was  beating  so  with  joy  and  excitement  that  he  felt  he 
wanted  to  skip  along  in  the  sunshine,  beneath  the  lovely 
palm  trees.  He  paralyzed  the  porter  by  pressing  a 
golden  louis  into  his  hand.  It  was  his  offering  to 
Fortune,  this  gift  to  the  first  person  with  whom  he  spoke 
on  Monte  Carlo  soil. 

The  business  of  the  hotel  over,  Antoine  hurried  to  the 
Casino,  and  caught  his  breath  as  he  first  beheld  the  im- 
posing white  building,  gleaming  in  the  sun.  He  hurried 
up  the  famous  flight  of  steps  worn  by  the  feet  of  count- 
less gamblers,  lucky  and  unlucky,  and  found  that  there 
was  a  small  vexatious  delay  because  of  the  necessity  of 
getting  a  ticket  for  the  rooms.  But  another  golden 
louis  here  paved  the  way  to  immediate  attention.  At 
last  he  passed  through  a  noble  door,  and  stood  within 
the  rooms. 

There  was  a  slirill  and  constant  chirrup  in  the  air,  like 
the  voice  of  many  sparrows  outside  the  bedroom  window 
in  the  early  morning.  It  was  the  voice  of  gold;  the 
musical  ring  of  innumerable  coins  being  tossed  about  and 
raked  up  and  down  on  the  dozen  or  more  of  roulette 
tables  which  were  already  in  full  swing.  To  Antoine  it 
seemed  like  celestial  music,  or  a  hymn  of  Gold  sung  in 
praise  of  his  infallible  system. 

He  approached  the  first  table,  and  joined  the  crowd 
around  it.  He  saw  a  roulette  wheel  spin  for  the  first 
time,  heard  the  little  ivory  ball  jump  and  click,  and  saw 
how  money  was  lost  and  won.  He  saw  how  other  people 
were  playing  on  systems,  with  little  books  before  them 
which  they  consulted  carefully,  like  accountants  adding 
up  figures,  and  in  which  they  wrote  down  more  figures 
from  time  to  time.  Antoine  smiled  a  little  pityingly. 
It  was  droll  that  they  should  be  searching  for  a  system 
when  'he  had  it  in  his  pocket  all  the,  time ! 


22        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

For  an  hour  he  watched  the  play.  The  man  behind 
whose  chair  Antoine  was  standing  was  losing  heavily. 
At  last  he  got  up,  his  face  dark  and  frowning.  Antoine 
took  his  place,  brought  out  his  own  books,  and  with  a 
smile  at  the  croupier  as  if  to  say  "Sorry,  I  shan't  be  able 
to  help  winning  your  money,"  he  began  to  play. 


MONSIEUR  BRTTANT  proved  to  be  a  charming  host.  He 
greeted  his  guests  warmly  when  they  met  at  breakfast 
next  morning. 

"Messieurs,"  he  said.  "I  have  an  idea.  It  will  do 
this  Poiret  of  yours  no  harm  to  cool  his  heels  in  the  cells 
for  another  twenty-four  hours.  I  am  a  widower.  My 
children  are  married.  I  am  alone  in^  this  big  house  for 
the  week-end.  Why  not  stay  with  me  until  to-morrow 
morning,  and  then  go  on  to  claim  ymir  prisoner?  As  I 
say,  the  waiting  will  do  him  good." 

Morissot  looked  at  Bourdot,  and  Bourdot  looked  at 
Morissot.  Their  duty  was  to  refuse  this  tempting  offer, 
and  take  Antoine  back  to  Paris  at  once,  to  where  the 
sorrowing  and  anxious  staff,  deprived  of  a  whole  month's 
salary,  awaited  him  feverishly.  But  their  host  was  so 
charming,  his  chateau  so  comfortable  and  magnificent. 
.  .  .  It  would  be  delightful  to  spend  another  day 
there.  And,  moreover,  the  wait  would  certainly  do 
Antoine  good. 

They  looked  at  each  other  again,  and  fell. 

"We  shall  be  charmed,"  they  said  in  chorus. 

A  telegram  came  while  breakfast  was  in  progress  say- 
ing that  "the  man  Poiret"  had  been  detained,  and  ask- 
ing for  further  instructions. 

"I  can  see  Antoine  from  here,"  said  Morissot.     "How 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         23 

miserable  he  will  be,  to  be  caught  like  this  just  as  he  is 
about  to  put  into  execution  the  dream  of  his  life. 
Almost  I  can  feel  sorry  for  him.  There  is  only  one 
Antoine.  But  it  will  do  him  good,  assuredly,  and  the 
money  is  safe." 

They  laughed  at  the  idea  of  the  impetuous  Antoine 
cooling  his  heels  in  the  cells,  and  their  host  shared  the 
joke. 

"What  a  lucky  accident  it  was  that  you  saw  me  in 
the  train,"  he  said.  "Otherwise  .  .  ."  And  his 
gesture  was  eloquent  of  money  disappearing  in  large 
quantities. 

A  reply  was  sent  asking  that  Antoine  should  be  de- 
tained until  the  following  day,  when  Messieurs  Morissot 
and  Bourdot  would  call  for  him. 

"When  you  go  to-morrow,"  said  the  Senator,  "I  will 
give  you  a  letter  to  the  Commissaire.  My  name  counts 
for  something  in  Dijon.  Then,  if  you  so  wish  it,  the 
affair  can  be  treated  as  one  in  which  further  police  inter- 
vention is  not  desirable.  And  of  course,  by  that  time 
Poiret  will  see  that  it  is  much  better  to  come  back  quietly 
with  you  than  be  left  in  the  hands  of  the  police.  You 
bring  him  back  with  the  money,  and  all  will  be  well." 

With  that  they  went  out  for  a  long  motor  ride,  re- 
turning in  the  evening.  It  was  while  they  were  sitting 
at  an  admirable  dinner  that  Morissot  suddenly  made  an 
exclamation. 

"Heavens,  what  will  they  be  thinking  at  the  office?" 
he  cried. 

"I,  too,  had  forgotten,"  said  Bourdot  miserably. 
"They  will  be  in  a  fine  stew." 

"Write  them  a  letter  of  explanation  to-night,"  said 
their  host.  "That  will  put  them  at  their  ease." 

It  was  done,  the  trials  and  adventures  of  the  two 
being  described  in  moving  terms ;  the  letter  winding  up 


24.        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

with  the  good  news  that  Antoine  would  soon  be  brought 
back  with  the  money  practically  intact. 

M.  Bruant  next  morning  gave  them  the  letter  to  the 
Commissaire  of  Police,  and  insisted  on  pressing  a  loan 
of  two  hundred  francs  on  them  for  immediate  necessities. 
Another  letter  made  them  free  of  the  railway  to  Dijon 
and  back  to  Paris. 

"I  shall  be  here  for  two  days  more,"  he  said,  as  he 
saw  them  into  one  of  his  luxurious  motor  cars,  waiting 
to  take  them  to  the  station.  "Be  sure  and  let  me  know 
how  everything  goes  on,  and  in  the  event  of  any 
emergency  wire  me.  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  help." 

"I  did  not  know  there  were  such  good  people  on 
earth,"  said  Morissot  fervently  as  they  drove  away. 

"Say  then,  mon  ami,  do  you  not  see  the  advantage  of 
having  a  large  acquaintance  amongst  distinguished 
people?"  returned  Bourdot  proudly. 

It  was  afternoon  when  they  arrived  at  Dijon.  They 
proceeded  at  once  to  the  police  station  and  asked  to  see 
the  Commissaire,  and  on  explaining  their  business  were 
immediately  ushered  into  his  presence.  That  worthy 
greeted  them  with  great  empressement.  He  was  cor- 
diality itself  after  he  had  read  the  letter  from  M. 
Bruant. 

"I  am  happy  to  have  been  the  means  of  serving  you, 
Messieurs,"  he  said.  "This  man  Poiret  is  a  curious 
customer." 

"Is  he  all  right  ?"  Morissot  asked. 

"Quieter  now.  But  he  has  been  very  violent,  ex- 
tremely violent.  He  kicked  on  his  cell  door  most  of  the 
night.  And  by  the  way,  he  sticks  to  a  story  that  he  is 
not  Poiret.  Says  his  name  is  Robespierre.  Oh,  a  clever 
one,  I  assure  you." 

The  two  friends  looked  at  each  other  with  some 
surprise. 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         25 

"And  what  is  the  affair  exactly?"  said  the  Commis- 
saire  with  a  smile. 

Morissot  spoke  hurriedly. 

"Well,  it  is  rather  a  curious  business,  Monsieur  le 
Commissaire.  There  has  been  a  misunderstanding. 
M.  Poiret  has  behaved  a  little  rashly,  that  is  all,  and  it 
is  imperative  that  he  should  be  seen  in  Paris  again  at 
the  earliest  possible  'moment.  M.  Bruant  is  interested 
in  the  case."  An  inspiration  came  to  him.  "As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  there  is  a  lady  concerned.  Monsieur  will 
understand,  I  am  sure." 

"Perfectly,"  said  the  Commissaire  with  a  smile.  "We 
are  men  of  the  world,  is  it  not  ?  And  now,  shall  we  go 
and  see  this  Poiret.  All  is  quiet,  by  the  way.  He  is 
probably  sleeping." 

The  Commissaire  rang  a  bell,  an  agent-de-police 
appeared,  and  they  were  conducted  along  a  gloomy 
corridor. 

"This  is  the  cell,"  said  the  Commissaire  importantly. 
The  policeman  opened  the  door,  and  they  stepped  inside. 

It  was  rather  dark,  and  the  two  friends  at  first  could 
only  make  out  the  outline  of  a  bed  in  the  corner,  on 
which  a  man  seemed  to  be  lying  down  asleep.  But  the 
Commissaire  soon  put  an  end  to  that. 

"Ho,  there,  Poiret,"  he  called  loudly.  "Wake  up. 
They  have  come  for  you  at  last." 

The  figure  on  the  bed  moved  and  sat  up. 

"They  have,  have  they?"  came  a  rasping  voice  out  of 
the  twilight.  "Then  you,  idiot  of  a  policeman,  shall 
soon  learn  something." 

Bourdot  clutched  Morissot  by  the  arm.  This  did  not 
sound  like  Antoine's  voice. 

"Here  we  are,  Antoine,"  said  Morissot,  soothingly. 
"We  have  come  to  arrange  matters  amicably.  Come! 
We  are  all  going  back  to  Paris." 


26        THE  ADVENTURES  uF  ANTOINE 

"Oh,  the  devil  we  are."  The  little  figure  suddenly 
leaped  off  the  bed.  "And  are  you  the  blockheads  who 
are  responsible  for  this?" 

M.  Robespierre  stood  before  them,  his  face,  pallid 
from  want  of  sleep,  working  with  passion.  Morissot 
gave  a  cry  and  sprang  back. 

"Good  God,"  exclaimed  Bourdot. 

"But  what  is  it?"  cried  the  Commissaire.  "What  is 
the  matter  with  you  all  ?" 

"This  is  not  Poiret,"  the  two  friends  cried  in  chorus. 

"Not  Poiret!"  exclaimed  the  Commissaire.  "But  I 
ask  you.  The  skull  cap,  the  velvet  jacket.  It  must  be 
Poiret.  If  it  is  not  Poiret,  who  is  it  ?" 

"For  two  days,  idiot,  I  have  been  telling  you  my  name 
is  Robespierre,"  croaked  the  little  man.  "Now  perhaps 
you  will  believe  me.  You  have  made  an  enormous 
blunder,  and  you  shall  pay  heavily  for  it." 

"But — but — the  telegram,"  spluttered  the  Commis- 
saire. "I  have  it.  You  shall  see  it.  Gentlemen,  come 
to  my  office." 

He  darted  out  of  the  cell,  leaving  the  others  to  follow. 
Morissot  and  Bourdot,  bewildered  and  troubled,  ran 
after  him,  with  M.  Robespierre,  making  vindictive 
noises,  bringing  up  the  rear.  When  they  arrived  at  the 
office  they  saw  the  Commissaire  already  looking,  with  a 
startled  gaze,  at  a  piece  of  paper  in  his  hand. 

"Sapristi!"  he  said  as  they  came  in.  "It  is  only  too 
true.  This  telegram  was  read  in  a  great  hurry,  prepa- 
rations were  immediately  made,  -a  mistake  was  com- 
mitted. It  was  taken  to  mean  that  the  old  gentleman, 
wearing  the  skull  cap  and  velvet  jacket  (he  bowed  to 
M.  Robespierre,  who  scowled  in  reply)  was  the  person 
wanted.  Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu!" 

The  Commissaire  was  in  a  high  perspiration,  and  he 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         27 

found  it  impossible  for  'his  eye  to  meet  the  steely  gaze 
of  M.  Robespierre.  But  something  had  to  be  done. 

The  Commissaire  braced  himself  up  for  the  ordeal  of 
apology. 

"Monsieur,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  express  how  distressed 
I  am  that  this  regrettable  error  should  have  been  com- 
mitted. I  offer  you  a  thousand  humble  apologies.  I 
appreciate  now  to  the  full  the  agitation  of  mind  under 
which  you  have  been  laboring  ever  since — er — ever  since 
our  first  meeting  on  the  train.  Monsieur  Robespierre, 
again  I  apologize  most  humbly.  I  do  not  know  what 
to  say  more,  except  to  hope  you  will  understand  that  I 
thought  I  was  doing  my  duty." 

He  sat  down  again,  wiping  his  brow  nervously.  This 
aged  little  man  with  the  unfaltering  gaze  was  almost 
terrifying. 

"It  is  no  part  of  an  official's  duty,"  rasped  M.  Robe- 
spierre, "to  make  egregious  errors  in  the  reading  of  a 
simple  telegram  and  to  arrest  an  obviously  respectable 
citizen  in  the  place  of  a  rogue.  I  am  not  without  influ- 
ence in  Paris,  Monsieur,  and  I  can  promise  you  that  I 
shall  make  the  most  of  this.  No  doubt  you  will  hear 
more  later." 

The  Commissaire  turned  a  little  pale.  "As  you  wish, 
Monsieur,"  he  said,  with  dignity. 

Morissot  and  Bourdot  had  been  standing  tonguetied 
during  this  distressing  scene.  They  were  stunned  by 
the  terrible  mistake,  and  by  the  realization  that  while 
they  thought  Antoine  was  safely  under  lock  and  key  and 
they  were  enjoying  themselves,  he  was  instead  busily 
squandering  the  money  at  Monte  Carlo.  And  now  there 
was  this  awkward  business  with  M.  Robespierre. 
Morissot  looked  at  the  implacable  little  man,  and  it  sud- 
denly seemed  to  him  that  the  face  and  name  were 
familiar.  Ah,  he  had  it ! 


28        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Excuse  me,  Monsieur,  but  are  you  not  the  famous 
Monsieur  Robespierre  who  wrote  that  admirable  and 
monumental  work  on  Egyptian  Mythology  which  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  reading  some  time  ago  ?" 

For  the  first  time  a  softer  expression  came  over  the 
face  of  the  outraged  little  gentleman. 

"I  am  indeed  he,  Monsieur,  and  I  was  making  my 
leisurely  way  to  Egypt,  via  the  Riviera,  when  this 
foolish  official  took  possession  of  me." 

The  Commissaire  was  no  fool.  He  knew  how  to  make 
the  best  of  a  good  moment. 

"But  what  a  misfortune !"  he  cried.  "You  are  truly 
the  famous  savant,  M.  Robespierre  of  Egyptian  fame! 
Monsieur,  I  cannot  express  to  you  how  desolated  I  am. 
Only  the  other  day  a  friend  of  mine  who  knows  Egypt 
well  was  saying  to  me  that  your  book  is  the  classic  of 
all  time.  He  .  .  ." 

"His  name?"  demanded  M.  Robespierre. 

"Ah,  you  would  not  know  him.  His  name  is  Duval ; 
he  is  an  official  in  the  finance  department — quite  a 
modest  position,  but  he  takes  an  almost  passionate  in- 
terest in  all  that  concerns  ancient  Egypt,  and  he  told 
me  that  for  him  your  book  had  become  almost  his  Bible." 
Never  in  all  his  official  career  had  the  Commissaire  lied 
so  magnificently. 

"Ah!"  It  seemed  as  though  a  gentle  radiance  shone 
forth  from  under  the  parchment  complexion  of  M. 
Robespierre.  "It  is  good  to  know  that  there  are  people 
who  appreciate  the  labors  of  a  lifetime.  Give  my 
respects  to  your  friend  when  next  you  see  him." 

"I  will,  most  assuredly,"  said  the  Commissaire. 

"And  now,  Monsieur,"  broke  in  Morissot,  who  wished 
to  encourage  the  gentler  spirit  now  manifesting  itself, 
"may  we  tell  you  the  story  of  why  this  distressing  mis- 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         29 

take  arose  ?"  And  before  he  could  be  stopped  'he  plunged 
into  the  narrative  of  Antoine  and  La  Lumiere. 

"Then  that  person  who  would  try  and  talk  to  me  was 
your  Antoine  Poiret,"  said  M.  Robespierre. 

"And  I  apologized  for  disturbing  him !"  groaned  the 
Commissaire.  He  banged  his  desk  savagely. 

"It  is  a  most  interesting  story,"  said  the  Egyptolo- 
gist. "What  do  you  propose  to  do?" 

"I  suppose  we  must  go  back  to  Paris  without  him," 
said  Bourdot. 

"Nonsense!"  cried  M.  Robespierre.  "Give  up  the 
chase  at  such  >a  moment!  Never!  Follow  him  to 
Monte  Carlo,  and  no  doubt  you  will  yet  be  in  time  to 
save  much;  of  'the  money.  And  I  will  come  with  you. 
It  is  on  my  way,  and  I  have  a  fancy  to  see  more  of  this 
Poiret  who  has  caused  me  so  much  discomfort." 

"Listen,"  said  Morissot  'hurriedly  to  Bourdot.  "We 
will  do  it.  We  will  telegraph  to  the  Senator  telling 
him  how  things  have  gone  wrong,  and  he  will  telegraph 
instructions  here  for  us  to  be  allowed  to  go  on.  We 
shall  be  able  to  take  the  night  train  and  be  at  Monte 
Carlo  to-morrow." 

"Agreed,"  said  Bourdot. 

"It  is  a  wise  decision,"  said  M.  Robespierre.  "And 
now,  gentlemen,  I  propose  to  leave  this  too  hospitable 
place  at  once." 

His  face  darkened  again,  and  he  turned  to  the 
Commissaire. 

"Monsieur,  what  are  we  to  do  about  this  unfortunate 
affair?  It  is  no  light  error  that  you  have  committed. 
What  reparation  do  you  propose  to  make?" 

The  Commissaire  spread  out  his  hands  with  a  hopeless 
gesture. 

"Monsieur  Robespierre — cher  Maitre — w*hat  can  I  do? 
I  am  in  your  hands — and  I  have  a  family — a  large 


30    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

family.  I  have  already  two  children  and — who 
knows? — some  day  there  might  be  another.  It  is  in 
your  power  to  make  matters  most  awkward  for  me  if 
you  wish.  It  was  an  unfortunate  error — an  excess  of 
zeal.  Monsieur  Robespierre,  I  throw  myself  on  your 
compassion.  And,  tenezl  I  will  buy  your  famous 
book,  and  will  vie  with  my  friend  Duval  in  my  admira- 
tion of  a  master  who  is  so  justly  celebrated." 

M.  Robespierre  considered  for  a  moment,  and  then 
smiled. 

"So  be  it,"  he  said.      "We  will  leave  it  at  that." 

"I  thank  you  infinitely,  cher  Maitre,"  said  the  Com- 
missaire,  bowing  low,  his  face  all  smiles  and  happiness. 

They  took  ceremonious  leave  of  him,  and  the  three 
passed  out  into  the  street. 

"To  the  telegraph  office  first,"  said  M.  Robespierre 
briskly,  as  he  stepped  along  at  a  fine  pace.  "That  Com- 
missaire  is  the  most  perfect  liar  I  have  ever  met.  With 
that  and  his  zeal  he  should  go  far." 


VI 

ANTOINE'S  first  experience  at  the  tables  was  a  most 
pleasant  one.  In  two  hours,  playing  steadily  and 
unemotionally,  according  to  the  dictates  of  the  system, 
he  had  won  five  thousand  francs.  This  encouraged  and 
puzzled  him  at  the  same  time.  He  had  expected  to  lose 
at  first,  and  the  system  allowed  for  this.  But  if 
Fortune  intended  to  smile  broadly  from  the  very  begin- 
ning so  much  the  better. 

At  this  point  he  left  the  tables  for  dinner.  He  had 
not  forgotten  that  haste  was  necessary,  but  after  all  a 
man  must  dine.  And  he  felt  that  all  was  well.  The 
question  that  exercised  his  mind  most  was  why  he  had 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         81 

not  come  to  Monte  Carlo  years  ago.  He  was  here  now, 
and  it  all  seemed  so  easy. 

He  dined  extremely  well,  but  swallowed  his  coffee  with 
haste,  left  the  splendors  of  the  hotel  behind  him,  and 
almost  ran  the  few  yards  down  the  hill  to  the  Casino. 
He  found  a  place  immediately  at  one  of  the  tables,  and 
sat  down  feeling  master  of  himself  and  of  all  the  world. 

He  put  his  little  books  of  moves  and  calculations 
before  him,  changed  notes,  and  placed  half  a  dozen  little 
piles  of  gold  beside  the  books.  Then  coolly,  method- 
ically, his  brain  clear,  undisturbed  by  the  spin  of  the 
fascinating  wheel  and  heedless  of  the  exclamations  and 
emotions  of  others  round  him,  he  began  to  play. 

He  lost  steadily.  At  first  he  was  indifferent  to  it. 
The  system  would  soon  begin  to  speak.  But  as  the 
night  wore  on  and,  with  occasional  runs  of  prosperity, 
the  bank  claimed  one  pile  of  gold  after  another,  he  began 
to  feel  a  slight  anxiety.  Not  in  the  intrinsic  truth  and 
eventual  triumph  of  the  system.  That  was  infallible. 
But  would  it  work  quickly  enough?  So  that  when  his 
pursuers  came  up  with  him  he  would  be  able  to  point 
magnificently  to  the  fortune  he  had  already  amassed. 

By  midnight  when  the  rooms  closed  he  knew  he  had 
lost  a  good  deal.  He  made  a  rapid  calculation  in  his 
little  books  and  found  that  he  had  lost  five  thousand 
francs  he  had  won  during  the  afternoon  and  nearly  eight 
thousand  more  on  the  top  of  them. 

It  was  serious — but  by  no  means  desperate.  The 
system  was  only  biding  its  time.  On  the  morrow  it 
would  show  its  hand  in  full  force.  His  head  was  busy 
with  figures  as  he  walked  back  up  the  hill.  In  his  bed- 
room he  ran  rapidly  through  the  well-known  formula 
with  which  he  had  now  lived  for  twenty  years.  Every- 
thing was  all  right.  If  only  he  was  not  hurried !  To- 
morrow would  make  it  all  right.  He  slept  fairly  well. 


32    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

He  was  down  before  the  tables  opened  next  morning. 
To  his  surprise  he  found  every  seat  occupied  by  a 
shabby-genteel  crowd  of  men  and  women,  most  of  them 
middle-aged  or  old.  He  went  to  the  seat  which  he  had 
occupied  when  he  won  the  five  thousand  francs.  An  old 
hag  in  a  piteous  hat  rose  as  he  approached. 

"You  can  have  my  seat  for  ten  francs,  Monsieur," 
she  whispered.  "It  is  a  very  lucky  seat." 

"I  do  not  believe  in  luck,"  said  Antoine.  But  he  gave 
her  the  ten  francs  all  the  same. 

"Faites  vos  jeux"  cried  the  croupier.  His  voice  was 
clear.  It  was  the  first  spin  of  the  morning.  The  old 
lady  put  her  ten  fran.cs  on  the  red,  the  black  turned  up 
and  she  went  away  with  a  grimace,  and  an  exclamation 
of  disgust. 

"So  much  for  luck,"  said  Antoine  to  himself,  as  he 

turned  to  his  books. 

***#*•  * 

Antoine  lost  heavily  throughout  the  morning.  The 
system  seemed  to  be  playing  hide  and  seek  with  him. 
Time  after  time  it  gave  him  successful  little  runs,  dur- 
ing which  the  piles  of  gold  before  him  grew  larger.  But 
always  when  the  time  came  to  stake  heavily,  so  as  to 
win  in  one  grand  coup  more  than  he  could  lose  in  a  dozen 
small  ones,  the  system  seemed  to  elude  'him  with  a  chuckle 
and  his  gold  disappeared  into  the  bank.  Time  after 
time  he  changed  notes  for  more  gold.  The  croupier 
took  them  as  impassively  as  a  Chinese  god,  put  them  in 
a  heavily  grilled  metal  box  by  his  side,  and  tossed  out 
in  return  a  stream  of  sparkling  gold  pieces. 

The  crowd  left  the  tables  towards  the  lunch  hour  and 
Antoine  finding  himself  almost  alone  went  out.  He 
lunched  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris  opposite,  and  again  dipped 
into  figures.  Another  five  thousand  francs  gone !  This 
was  unfortunate.  His  faith  in  the  system  w<as  still  un- 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         33 

shaken.  He  had  worked  on  it  for  twenty  years  and 
knew  it  would  not  fail  him.  But  it  was  a  little  slower 
in  getting  to  work  than  he  had  anticipated.  If  only 
those  idiots  in  Paris  had  left  him  alone,  and  were  not 
hurrying  him.  He  had  needed  time  and  calm. 

"Courage  and  calm,"  -he  said  to  himself  as  he  walked 
back  to  the  rooms.  "The  system  cannot  fail."  He  saw 
nothing  of  the  gaily  dressed  crowds  on  the  terraces,  nor 
of  the  beautiful  panorama  of  mountain  and  blue  sky 
and  sea.  He  saw  only  the  glittering  white  walls  of  the 
gaming  'house,  and  the  people  streaming  up  the  Casino 
steps  and  into  the  great  gaming  rooms. 

He  played  on,  a  growing  anxiety  in  his  brain,  but 
fascinated  by  the  struggle  of  his  own  ingenuity  against 
the  hazard  of  that  spinning  wheel.  The  dinner  hour 
came  and  went,  and  the  croupiers  were  changed,  and  he 
noticed  nothing.  He  saw  only  the  green  cloth  with  the 
gold  spread  over  it;  heard  only  the  click  of  the  ivory 
ball  in  the  wheel  and  the  voice  of  the  croupier  announc- 
ing the  result.  His  fingers  ached  with  marking  down 
figures  in  his  little  books.  More  than  once  he  was  on 
the  brink  of  despair,  when  there  came  a  little  run  of 
winning  coups  which  seemed  to  have  been  sent  expressly 
to  save  him  from  destruction.  He  passed  into  a  sort  of 
stupor,  in  which  his  hands  moved  mechanically  placing 
money  on  the  clot'h,  and  marking  down  his  figures.  He 
did  not  awake  until  the  croupier  bent  down  to  tell  him 
that  play  was  over  for  the  night. 

Antoine  walked  back  to  his  hotel  in  a  whirl  of  emotion. 
In  his  bedroom  he  made  a  rapid  examination  of  his 
affairs.  Of  the  thirty  notes  of  a  thousand  francs  each 
with  which  he  had  left  Paris  he  had  now  only  twelve,  and 
some  loose  gold  left.  That  is,  he  had  lost  eighteen 
thousand  francs,  and  the  twenty  years'  attention  to  his 
system  had  always  shown  that  twenty  thousand  francs 


34        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

was  the  maximum  capital  needed  to  make  fortune  secure. 
His  faith  in  the  system  was  beginning  to  be  terribly 
tried.  But  it  was  by  no  means  dead.  He  had  two 
thousand  francs  of  the  original  capital  left,  and  ten 
thousand  more  to  back  that  up.  He  would  try,  and 
succeed,  on  the  morrow.  When  at  last  he  slept  he  had 
a  beautiful  dream  that  he  had  broken  the  bank. 

It  was  late  when  he  awoke.  He  decided  to  defer  his 
final  assault  on  fortune  until  the  afternoon.  There  were 
lines  along  'his  forehead  und  his  mouth  was  set  as  he  sat 
down  to  play  again.  In  an  hour  the  two  thousand 
francs  had  gone.  Should  he  now  risk  the  final  ten 
thousand  francs  ?  His  hesitation  did  not  last  more  than 
a  moment.  He  had  gone  too  far  to  draw  back.  It  was 
all  or  nothing  now. 

But  still  fortune  was  obdurate.  Steadily  his  money 
flowed  into  the  bank.  Antoine's  face  grew  haggard. 
The  corners  of  his  mouth  were  turned  down  desperately, 
and  the  perspiration  stood  out  on  his  forehead.  He 
lost  his  head.  A  hoarse  chuckle  escaped  him,  unnoticed 
in  the  buzz  of  the  table.  Curse  the  system.  It  had 
failed  him.  He  would  try  a  game  with  luck.  He 
staked  here,  there,  anywhere,  at  hazard,  as  the  fancy 
took  him.  Four  times  in  succession  he  played  the  maxi- 
mum on  red,  and  red  turned  up  faithfully.  He  turned 
to  black,  and  four  times  the  wheel  seemed  to  follow  his 
bidding.  Recklessly  he  placed  the  maximum  on  Zero. 
His  chances  of  winning  were  only  one  in  thirty-three. 
Everyone  at  the  table  waited  for  the  result  of  his  coup. 
A  murmur  went  up  as  the  wheel  slowed  down  and  the 
ball  was  seen  to  click  into  Zero. 

The  croupier  pushed  a  heap  of  notes  and  gold  to- 
wards Antoine.  A  crowd  began  to  gather  about  him, 
and  Antoine,  in  an  intoxication  of  success  and  utter  reck- 
lessness, went  on  playing  and  winning. 


VII 

THE  three  pursuers  got  out  of  the  train  at  Monte  Carlo 
tingling  a  little  with  the  excitement  of  the  hunter  who  is 
at  last  nearing  his  quarry. 

"Let  us  go  direct  to  the  Casino,"  said  M.  Robespierre, 
who  was  the  only  one  who  was  familiar  with  the  place. 
"We  will  take  the  lift." 

"Let's  hope  -we  shall  be  in  time  to  save  a  little  from 
the  wreck,"  said  Bourdot,  with  resignation,  as  the  lift 
took  them  slowly  up  the  face  of  the  rock  on  which 
Monte  Carlo  is  built. 

They  walked  quickly  to  the  Casino,  and  waited  fever- 
ishly at  the  end  of  a  line  of  people  in  order  to  obtain 
cards  of  admission  to  the  gaming  rooms.  At  last  they 
passed  in. 

The  rooms  were  crowded.  Every  one  of  the  score  or 
more  of  tables,  roulette  and  trente-et-qiuirante,  was 
going  merrily.  They  wandered  about  the  hot  and 
stifling  atmosphere,  searching  every  table,  but  could  see 
no  trace  of  Antoine.  The  hearts  of  the  two  friends 
sank  with  apprehension.  They  had  made  a  sad  mess 
of  it.  Why  did  they  waste  that  precious  day  at  Melun  ? 

At  last  there  remained  but  one  table  which  they  had 
not  examined.  There  was  a  big  crowd  round  it,  which 
made  near  approach  impossible.  There  was  obvious 
excitement  among  the  people  watching  the  play,  but 
they  were  unable  to  see  the  cause  of  it.  They  stood  on 
the  edge  of  the  crowd,  nervous  and  tantalized. 

"I  feel  that  we  shall  find  Antoine  here,"  said  Morissot. 
Every  now  and  again  a  murmur  of  excitement  came 
from  the  crowd.  It  was  maddening. 

"You  are  strong.  I  am  small,"  said  M.  Robespierre, 
practical  as  ever.  "Lift  me  up  to  peep  over  their 
heads." 


36        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

They  both  bent  to  the  task,  which  was  no  heavy  one. 
M.  Robespierre  looked  over  a  small  sea  of  feathered  hats 
to  where  a  man,  the  center  of  all  this  interest,  sat  with 
a  large  pile  of  notes  and  gold  before  him.  His  face 
was  flushed  and  drawn ;  his  eyes  gleamed  with  excite- 
ment. As  M.  Robespierre  looked,  the  wheel  stopped 
turning,  there  came  another  murmur  from  the  crowd, 
and  a  further  pile  of  gold  balanced  delicately  on  the 
top  of  a  large  note,  was  pushed  towards  Antoine. 

M.  Robespierre  bent  down  and  spoke  in  a  whisper. 
"It  is  he — Antoine — the  man  who  was  in  my  carriage. 
And  he  is  winning  money  by  the  bushel." 

Their  heads  pressed  against  M.  Robespierre's  waist- 
coat. Morissot  and  Bourdot  gazed  into  each  other's 
eyes,  their  faces  suddenly  shining  with  happiness  and 
relief. 

"The  sacre  system !      It  is  all  right  then,  after  all !" 

"Praise  heaven !" 

M.  Robespierre  waited  aloft  for  another  turn  of  the 
wheel.  Again  Antoine  won.  M.  Robespierre  descended 
to  earth. 

"It  is  incredible,"  he  said.  "The  man  is  rolling  in 
money !" 

"What  shall  we  do?"  asked  Morissot. 

"Leave  him  alone  so  long  as  he  is  winning.  The 
moment  his  luck  shows  signs  of  turning  you  must  break 
in  and  stop  him." 

"But  it  is  not  luck,  it  is  his  system." 

"His  system  is  it?  Then  the  moment  it  shows  signs 
of  breaking  down  you  must  step  in  and  prescribe  for  it. 
Total  rest."  And  M.  Robespierre  chuckled.  "I  will 
continue  to  watch." 

They  hoisted  him  aloft  again.  M.  Robespierre  knew 
something  of  the  game  of  roulette.  He  saw  Antoine 
place  a  pile  of  fifteen  gold  pieces  on  number  29.  "The 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         37 

man  is  mad,"  murmured  the  little  gentleman.  A  num- 
ber of  punters  followed  Antoine's  lead  with  smaller 
sums.  There  was  the  usual  pause,  the  usual  suspense 
While  the  wheel  made  its  journey — and  the  croupier 
shouted  out  "twenty-nine."  Antoine  had  won  again, 
and  nine  thousand  francs  in  notes  and  gold  were  pushed 
towards  him. 

"It  is  fantastic,"  murmured  M.  Robespierre. 

Five  times  following  this  did  Antoine  win.  He  seemed 
to  have  the  wealth  of  the  world  gathered  before  him. 
A  little  group  of  casino  officials,  grave  and  frock- 
coated,  were  gathered  round  the  chair  of  the  croupier, 
near  to  Antoine,  who,  at  the  bidding  of  a  quaint  conceit 
which  had  come  to  him,  still  from  time  to  time  consulted 
his  books  of  useless  figures.  He  won  again,  and  there 
was  a  little  stir  of  excitement  among  the  usually  impas- 
sive officials.  The  croupier  began  to  pay  out.  Sud- 
denly he  stopped  and  with  a  little  smile  turned  to  the 
officials  behind  him.  One  of  them  walked  away  swiftly. 
A  murmur  of  excitement  ran  round  the  crowd  at  the 
tables.  The  bank  was  broken !  The  croupier  could  not 
pay  out. 

Antoine  sat  there  as  if  petrified,  only  vaguely  con- 
scious of  the  excitement  that  buzzed  around  him.  In  a 
few  moments  two  stalwart  attendants  in  uniform  walked 
up  with  a  large,  heavy  box.  Amidst  further  excitement 
it  was  opened,  and  scores  of  rouleaux  of  gold  were  ex- 
tracted and  placed  in  the  croupier's  bank.  The  croupier 
began  to  pay  out  immediately,  the  grave  officials  busy- 
ing themselves  with  the  unpacking  of  the  box. 

"Faites  vos  jeux!"  cried  the  croupier.  Monte  Carlo, 
calm  and  unshakable,  was  itself  again. 

M.  Robespierre  bent  down  to  the  two  friends. 

"He  must  be  stopped  at  once,  now  while  he  has  won ! 
If  he  goes  on,  in  an  hour  he  may  have  no  money  left. 


38    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

At  present  he  has  more  than  he  knows  what  to  do  with. 
Quick!  Round  to  the  other  side.  We  must  push  in 
behind  him  at  all  costs." 

They  dashed  round  the  table.  Owing  to  somebody 
changing  seats  there  was  at  that  moment  an  opening  in 
the  crowd  near  to  Antoine.  M.  Robespierre  darted  into 
it  before  it  closed  again;  he  put  his  lips  close  down  to 
Antoine's  ear. 

"Morissot  and  Bourdot  are  here,"  he  hissed,  in  an 
intense  whisper.  "You  must  come  at  once — at  once,  do 
you  understand — or  there  will  be  trouble." 

Antoine  turned  round  in  his  chair  and  looked  full 
into  the  eyes  of  the  little  man  whom  he  had  last  seen 
being  carried  out  of  the  railway  carriage.  Those  pierc- 
ing eyes,  alight  with  an  excitement  and  vivacity  which 
Antoine  mistook  for  wrath,  seemed  to  look  through  him. 

"I  will  come,"  said  Antoine. 

"Change  that  heap  of  gold  into  notes,  and  get  up  at 
once,"  the  whisper  commanded  him  again. 

Antoine  did  so,  bestowing  a  handsome  present  on  the 
croupier.  He  placed  the  thick  wad  of  notes  which  was 
before  him  carefully  in  an  inside  pocket,  and  left  the 
table.  In  another  moment  he  was  face  to  face  with 
Morissot  and  Bourdot. 

"At  last !"  they  said  in  chorus.  They  looked  hungrily 
at  Antoine.  He  represented  a  whole  month's  salary, 
now  long  deferred,  to  each  of  them. 

"Why  did  you  follow  me?"  demanded  Antoine.  He 
began  to  realize  that  he  had  a  part  to  play,  and  so  long 
as  he  did  not  meet  those  gimlet  eyes  of  M.  Robespierre 
he  felt  capable  of  doing  it. 

"Mais  sapristi!  You  ran  away  with  all  our  money," 
rapped  out  Morissot.  "The  whole  staff  is  left  there 
stranded.  You  leave  us  without  twenty  france  between 
us,  and  run  away  with  a  fortune.  It  was  our  duty  to 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         39 

come,  we  came  as  much  as  anything  else  to  save  you 
from  yourself." 

"Tlens!  I  like  that,"  laughed  Antoine.  "At  last 
after  twenty  years'  waiting  I  get  the  chance  of  putting 
my  system  to  the  test — of  making  a  fortune.  And  just 
when  it  is-  going  splendidly" — Antoine  here  met  M. 
Robespierre's  eyes  and  averted  his  gaze — "just  when  it 
is  going  splendidly  and  money  is  beginning  to  roll  in 
you  come  along  and  spoil  matters.  And  I,  who  intended 
to  enter  Paris  like  a  conqueror,  my  pockets  full  of  notes 
and  gold  which  I  should  have  bestowed  on  my  dear 
confreres,  am  chased  down  here  as  though  I  were  a 
criminal.  It  is  fantastic!  Ah  non,  where  is  your 
gratitude?"  And  Antoine  threw  his  arms  wide  in  a 
gesture  of  indignation. 

Bourdot  and  Morissot  looked  at  each  other  in  amaze- 
ment. They  had  expected  a  humiliated  and  repentant 
Antoine  suing  for  mercy,  and  promising  not  to  do  it 
again.  But  this !  M.  Robespierre  turned  away  to  hide 
a  chuckle. 

They  were  in  'the  open  air  now,  walking  along  the 
terrace  in  the  glorious  sunshine,  Antoine  still  talking  in 
a  very  aggrieved  tone.  Suddenly  Bourdot's  face  went 
very  white  and  he  grasped  Morissot's  arm  in  a  tre- 
mendous grip. 

"Look  who  comes,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

Morissot  looked,  and  there  immediately  in  front  of 
them  he  saw  none  other  than  M.  Leblanc,  smiling,  in  the 
best  of  humors,  a  lovely  lady  on  his  arm. 

M.  Leblanc  saw  them  in  the  same  moment.  He  looked 
with  amazement  from  Bourdot  to  Morissot.  Then  his 
eye  fell  on  Antoine,  and  he  stood  as  if  transfixed.  It 
was  obvious  that  he  was  thinking  very  hard. 

He  said  a  word  to  the  lady  with  him,  and  handed  her 
to  a  seat.  Then  he  walked  up  to  the  three  members  of 


40    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

his  staff.  Antoine  saw  him  for  the  first  time  and  stared, 
fascinated. 

"Bon  jour,  messieurs,"  said  M.  Leblanc  with  studied 
politeness.  "May  I  inquire  why  three  of  the  foremost 
members  of  the  staff  of  La  Lumiere  have  chosen  this 
moment  to  come  together  to  Monte  Carlo?"  His  gaze 
rested  with  especial  intensity  on  Antoine. 

For  a  moment  nobody  spoke.  The  shock  of  meeting 
him  was  too  great  to  allow  of  an  easy  invention  at  the 
bidding  of  the  moment.  At  last  Antoine's  voice  was 
heard. 

"It  is  very  simple,  Monsieur  Leblanc.  The  matter 
will  be  easily  explained  if  you  will  give  us  a  few  mo- 
ments of  your  valuable  time." 

"I  have  just  descended  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris,"  said 
the  proprietor  of  La  Lumiere.  "Meet  me  in  the  foyer 
there  in  ten  minutes."  And  he  turned  again  to  the  lady. 

The  party  walked  slowly  to  the  hotel. 

"What  are  you  going  to  say?"  exclaimed  Morissot. 

"I  shall  tell  'him  the  simple  truth,"  said  Antoine. 
"He  is  a  financier.  He  will  understand.  And  success 
justifies  anything.  I  have  succeeded." 

They  sat  down  in  a  quiet  corner  of  the  entrance  hall 
of  the  gorgeous  hotel.  In  a  few  minutes  M.  Leblanc 
walked  up  to  the  group.  He  shot  a  quick  glance  at 
M.  Robespierre. 

"Permit  me  to  present  Monsieur  Robespierre,  the 
famous  savant  and  Egyptologist,"  said  Morissot.  M. 
Leblanc  bowed,  but  said  nothing. 

"And  now,"  said  Leblanc,  fastening  his  gaze  on 
Antoine.  "I  left  you  a  few  days  ago  with  a  large  sum 
of  money,  and  instructions  as  to  how  to  proceed  on  a 
new  advertising  campaign.  I  did  not  imagine  that  you 
would  find  it  necessary  to  come  to  Monte  Carlo." 

"True,"  said  Antoine.      "But  the  matter  is  simply 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         41 

explained.  I  also  have  something  of  the  financial 
instinct.  For  many  years,  moreover,  I  have  been  pos- 
sessed of  an  infallible  system  at  roulette.  Unfor- 
tunately I  have  never  had  the  capital  necessary  to 
exploit  it.  Your  hurried  departure  the  other  day  pro- 
vided me  with  the  means.  I  borrowed  the  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  for  a  few  days.  And  I  shall  be  happy  to 
repay  them  to  you  now,  together  with  more  than  the 
usual  interest." 

The  face  of  M.  Leblanc  was  a  study  as  he  heard  this 
calm  proposal.  His  eyebrows  worked  convulsively. 
He  looked  as  though  he  would  fall  on  Antoine.  At  last 
he  exploded. 

"And  so  that  is  what  you  do  the  moment  my  back  is 
turned.  You  scoundrel!  Borrowed  my  money,  do  you 
say.  Stolen  it  you  mean.  The  police  shall  hear  of 
this,  and  at  once." 

"It  is  absurd  to  say  I  have  stolen  your  money,"  said 
Antoine.  "See !"  He  pulled  a  very  thick  wad  of  large 
notes  from  his  inner  pocket.  "There  are  your  thirty 
thousand  francs,  together  with  a  good  many  more  of 
mine." 

M.  Leblanc  was  a  financier.  The  sight  of  this  large 
sum  of  money  moved  him.  In  spite  of  himself  he  could 
not  help  respecting  a  man  who  had  made  money  quickly, 
by  whatever  means. 

"How  much  have  you  won?"  he  asked  shortly. 

Antoine  licked  the  end  of  his  finger  and  began  to  turn 
over  the  sheaf  of  notes.  It  seemed  as  if  he  would  never 
stop. 

"I  seem  to  have  won  about  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs,"  he  said  at  last. 

"And  how  long  did  it  take  you  to  win  that  sum?" 

"About  a  day,"  said  Antoine  airily. 

"Do  you  realize,"  said  the  financier,  in  low  but  in- 


42        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

flexible  tones,  "that  all  that  money — winnings  as  well  as 
capital — belongs  to  me?" 

Antoine  turned  very  pale. 

"I  won  it,  every  centime,"  he  replied,  with  some 
agitation.  "It  is  bhe  fruit  of  twenty  years  of  study, 
the  product  of  my  brains.  You  can  have  your  thirty 
thousand  francs  at  once — with  a  further  ten  thousand 
as  interest  for  the  little  time  during  which  I  made  a  con- 
venience of  your  capital." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  financier  drily.  "But  I  am 
afraid  I  must  take  the  lot.  You  are  my  servant,  and 
you  have  invested  my  money.  Hand  it  all  over  to  me 
at  once,  capital  and  interest,  or  .  .  ." 

"Or  what?"     Antoine's  voice  came  hoarsely. 

"Or — I  (hand  you  over  to  the  police.  That  is  the 
alternative.  Now  decide  at  once.  The  money — or  I 
send  on  the  spot  for  the  police." 

"But  Monsieur  Leblanc!  You  would  not  do  that," 
Morissot's  voice  broke  in. 

"Ah!  Precisely!  That  reminds  me.  What  are 
you  two  doing  here?  Are  you  accomplices  in  the 
affair?" 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  explain,  even  though 
it  meant  matters  going  hardly  with  Antoine.  So, 
briefly,  and  letting  Antoine  down  as  light  as  possible, 
Morissot  told  the  story  of  the  chase  from  Paris,  explain- 
ing at  the  same  time  the  part  played  in  it  by  M. 
Robespierre. 

M.  Leblanc's  face  hardened. 

"So!"  he  exclaimed.  "This  man  not  only  ran  away 
•with  the  money,  but  disorganizes  a  great  newspaper. 
My  back  is  turned  for  a  few  moments,  and  everything 
goes  to  pieces.  Come!  The  money  or  the  police! 
Which?" 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         43 

Antoine's  face  was  white  and  haggard.  But  he  was 
not  going  to  give  in  without  a  struggle. 

"I  have  no  money  of  yours,"  he  said.  "The  thirty 
thousand  francs  you  gave  me  is  safely  under  lock  and 
key  in  Paris.  I  came  to  Monte  Carlo  for  my  health. 
I  was  overworked,  and  needed  rest.  While  here  I  de- 
cided to  try  my  system,  working  with  the  modest  capital 
I  had  brought  with  me.  I  won.  That  is  all.  Now  I 
return  to  Paris,  benefited  by  my  trip.  I  shall  begin 
on  the  advertising  campaign  with  renewed  energy.  It 
is  all  to  your  benefit  really." 

M.  Leblanc  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"This  infantile  bluff!"  he  cried.  "Come,  for  the  last 
time.  Which  do  you  do?" 

"Listen!"  gasped  Antoine,  at  bay  now.  "There  is 
any  system.  See  what  it  has  done  for  me.  You  shall 
share  in  that." 

"Enough!"  cried  the  financier,  his  face  dark  and 
angry.  "We  have  played  too  much  already.  The  next 
word  is  with  the  police." 

He  stood  up  suddenly  and  looked  around,  about  to 
call  a  servant  of  the  hotel.  At  that  moment  a  large 
and  soberly-dressed  man  holding  a  bowler  hat  in  his  hand 
approached  the  angry  financier.  He  was  followed  by 
two  other  men  of  the  same  type. 

"Monsieur  Leblanc?"  inquired  the  first  in  a  low  tone. 

"C'est  moi,"  replied  the  financier.  "What  do  you 
want?" 

"I  belong  to  the  Monaco  Police,"  said  the  stranger. 
His  words  could  only  just  be  heard  by  the  others. 
Antoine  gave  a  little  gasp  and  seemed  about  to  collapse 
in  his  chair.  The  newcomer  handed  his  card  to  the 
financier. 

"Pray  what  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"The  two  gentlemen  witih  me,"  went  on  the  stranger, 


44    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"are  detectives  of  the  Paris  Surete.  Are  you  Monsieur 
Prosper  Leblanc,  Director  of  the  Equitable  Savings 
Bank  of  the  Thrifty  Peasant?" 

"I  am."     M.  Leblanc  looked  suddenly  anxious. 

"Then  I  am  afraid  I  must  ask  you  to  come  with  us." 

"And  why,  pray  ?" 

"One  of  your  employes  has  given  certain  infonnation 
to  the  police  authorities  in  Paris.  A  perquisition  was 
made  at  the  premises  of  the  bank.  Its  affairs  are 
judged  to  be  in  so  unsatisfactory  a  state  that,  er — that, 
in  short,  your  presence  is  desired  immediately." 

"But  this  is  an  outrage,"  said  the  financier  in  a  low 
but  intense  voice.  "I  shall  refuse  to  come." 

The  two  detectives  behind  closed  up  immediately. 

"It  will  be  better  if  you  come  quietly,  and  so  avoid  all 
scandal  here  in  public,"  were  the  quiet  words  of  the  one 
who  had  done  all  the  talking. 

M.  Leblanc  turned  round  to  the  group  at  the  table, 
as  if  to  ask  their  help.  He  glared  as  his  eye  fell  on 
Antoine,  and  seemed  about  to  say  something.  But 
something  'had  happened  which  made  the  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  seem  a  bagatelle.  M.  Leblanc's  affairs 
involved  millions — and  the  millions,  as  he  knew  better 
than  anybody,  were  very  much  involved  indeed.  His 
arms  dropped  to  his  sides  with  a  gesture  of  despair 
and  resignation  to  his  fate,  and  he  walked  quietly 
away,  discreetly  surrounded  by  his  escort. 

Antoine  mopped  his  brow  with  a  shaking  hand. 

"Sapristi!"  he  murmured.  "What  an  escape!  And 
to  think  the  patron  should  be  taken  instead  of  me. 
.  .  .  But,  after  all,  he  is  a  real  thief!" 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         45 

VIII 

THEY  all  sat  at  dinner  a  little  later. 

"And  so  the  poor  old  paper  is  finished  after  all,"  said 
Morissot.  "And  our  salaries,  Tiein?  Gone  also!  What 
shall  we  do?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Antoine.  "There  is  the  thirty 
-thousand  francs  intact.  I  have  those  in  hand  for 
petty  expenses.  The  money  shall  be  divided  amongst 
the  staff  in  lieu  of  notice.  And  to  it  I  will  add  fifty 
thousand  of  my  winnings.  You  will  not  do  so  hadly, 
you  and  the  confreres." 

"But  you,  Antoine,"  put  in  Bourdot.  "You  will  be 
an  immensely  rich  man.  YOU  have  your  system.  It 
has  triumphed,  your  fortune  is  made." 

M.  Robespierre  choked  a  little  with  his  soup. 

Antoine  looked  at  him,  and  then  at  his  friends. 

"Eh  bien,  mes  amis,  I  have  something  to  tell  you. 
I  would  have  sold  my  system  to  M.  Leblanc,  true.  But 
to  you  I  must  say  the  truth.  My  system  was  a  total 
failure.  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  ruin — of  losing  all. 
The  thirty  thousand  francs  would  have  gone,  my  friends 
been  betrayed.  Then,  reckless,  desperate — I  plunged — 
and  won.  Chance,  luck,  the  good  fortune  that  smiles  on 
desperate  men — what  you  will — came  to  my  aid.  And 
friends,  I  am  cured.  From  to-day  I  renounce  gambling. 
My  system  I  will  give  to  anybody  who  wants  it  >  .  ." 

The  head  waiter  approached  the  table  with  a  large 
visiting  card  in  ihis  hand.  "Monsieur  Poiret?"  'he 
inquired. 

Antoine  took  the  card  and  read,  "M.  Victor  Bellefille." 

"Who  is  it?    I  do  not  know  him." 

"M.  Bellefille  is  a  high  official  at  the  Casino,"  said 
the  head  waiter.  "He  is  waiting  in  the  lounge  and 


46         THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

would  be  glad  of  a  few  minutes  with  Monsieur  when  it 
is  convenient." 

Antoine  passed  a  hand  wearily  over  his  forehead. 

"I  cannot  see  him.     I  have  been  through  too  much." 

M.  Robespierre  picked  up  the  card,  a  gleam  of  ex- 
citement in  his  eyes. 

"This  man  must  be  seen,"  he  said.  "I  have  an  idea. 
Do  you  three  gentlemen  give  me  full  powers  to  act  in 
your  place?"  He  looked  from  Antoine  to  the  other 
two. 

They  agreed  at  once  and  the  little  man  hastened 
away.  He  did  not  return  until  they  were  sipping  their 
coffee.  He  sat  down  with  a  chuckle.  There  was  mirth 
in  his  eye.  They  looked  at  him,  consumed  by  curiosity. 

"I  have  sold  the  system,"  he  announced.  They 
gasped. 

"Yes,  I  have  sold  the  system  to  the  Casino  authori- 
ties, in  the  names  of  you  three  gentlemen — all  three  of 
you.  The  conditions  are  that  you,"  he  turned  to 
Antoine,  "assure  them  that  the  system  is  your  own 
invention,  that  it  is  known  only  to  you,  and  that  you 
•agree  never  to  impart  it  to  anybody  else." 

"And  the  price  ?"    They  spoke  in  a  breathless  chorus. 

"Half  a  million  francs !" 

Antoine  buried  his  face  in  his  handkerchief.  His 
shoulders  heaved,  as  with  uncontrollable  laughter.  But 
when  he  lifted  his  face  again  they  saw  he  was  in  tears. 

"It  is  too  much,"  he  said.     "I  cannot  speak." 
#  #  *  *  #  # 

They  sat  smoking  in  the  lounge,  near  to  the  spot 
•where  M.  Leblanc  had  so  hurriedly  left  them. 

"Between  ourselves,"  said  M.  Robespierre,  "I  imagine 
that  the  authorities  are  not  tremendously  impressed 
with  the  value  of  the  system,  or  its  danger  to  them. 
But  they  know  a  good  advertisement  when  they  see  one, 


THE  TEMPTATION  OF  ANTOINE         47 

and  they  decided  to  make  use  of  your  experience.  From 
time  to  time  they  like  the  world  to  hear  of  a  sensational 
coup.  Luckily  for  you  they  decided  to  make  you  a 
victim  of  their  subtle  publicity.  The  fact  that  you 
broke  the  bank,  and  that  they  then  brought  off  your 
system — this  will  filter  throughout  the  world.  Wher- 
ever there  is  a  gambler,  his  fingers  will  itch  at  the  story 
of  your  luck.  They  will  come  flocking  from  afar,  with 
'  their  own  systems.  Monte  Carlo  will  not  be  the  loser." 

"Ah!  That  explains  a  lot,"  said  Antoine.  "I  was 
wondering  a  little.  But  the  world  will  not  be  entirely 
a  loser,  either.  We  will  keep  La  Lumiere  going,  and 
Paris  shall  at  last  have  a  newspaper  worthy  of  it.  If 
we  wait  our  time  we  shall  be  able  to  buy  it  for  a  packet 
of  cigarettes.  And  then,  think  of  it!  I,  Antoine 
Poiret,  Business  Director.  You,  Morissot,  Political 
Director.  Parliament  will  be  open  to  you,  the  moment 
you  like  to  walk  into  it.  And  you,  Bourdot — your  in- 
fluence in  Society  will  grow,  your  name  will  be  men- 
tioned in  every  salon;  the  world  of  art,  of  literature, 
of  the  theatres,  is  yours.  .  .  .  And  you,  Monsieur 
Robespierre,  how  can  we  repay  you?" 

The  famous  savant  laughed  through  the  smoke  of 
'his  cigar. 

"I?  I  have  no  fierce  ambitions.  I  have  lived  too 
long  for  that.  But  I  will  contribute  Notes  from  Egypt 
on  the  subject  of  my  excavations.  And  whenever  I  feel 
that  life  is  dull  I  will  think  of  La  Lumiere  and  its 
three  Directors." 


CHAPTER  II 


'LA    DOULOUKEUSE7 


MONSIEUR  ANTOINE  POIRET,  Business  Director  of  the 
enterprising  and  well-esteemed  Paris  journal,  La 
Ltimiere,  sat  in  a  corner  of  t'he  Cafe  de  la  Bonne 
Biere  eating  a  modest  but  well-cooked  dinner.  It  was 
here,  just  round  the  corner  from  the  offices,  that  the 
members  of  the  staff  often  came  to  dine  when  time 
pressed,  and  Antoine,  though  now  .a  person  of  supreme 
importance  at  La  Lumiere,  did  not  disdain  to  patronize 
the  little  cafe  where  in  earlier  days  he  had  come  as 
cashiere  to  distribute  the  salaries  of  the  staff. 

Antoine,  with  ihis  co-directors,  Morissot  and  Bourdot, 
had  now  been  in  charge  of  the  fortunes  of  La  Lumiere 
for  some  four  months.  The  examination  of  M.  Leblanc's 
affairs,  following  on  his  arrest  at  Monte  Carlo,  had 
revealed  such  a  condition  of  wholesale  chicanery  that 
the  officers  of  the  law  hardly  knew  where  to  begin  to 
unravel  them,  and  in  the  meantime  M.  Leblanc  still 
languished  in  the  Sante  Prison.  La  Lumiere  had 
fallen  into  liquidation,  and  the  three  friends  had  been 
able,  as  Antoine  had  prophesied,  to  secure  it  for  "a 
packet  of  cigarettes."  With  the  money  they  were 
able  to  put  down  they  easily  obtained  further  capital, 
and  the  paper  was  now  giving  every  promise  of  a  pros- 
perous future. 

48 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  49 

But  all  the  same,  the  three  directors  of  La  Lumiere 
would  have  liked  to  see  its  march  toward  greatness 
accelerated  a  little.  They  wanted — or  at  any  rate 
Antoine  did — to  do  something  startling.  They  wanted 
Paris  to  talk  about  their  paper.  The  point  had  often 
been  the  subject  of  discussion  between  the  three, 
although  this  sort  of  thing  was  left  chiefly  to  Antoine. 

Bourdot  had  other  things  to  do.  Small  and  elegant, 
he  was  now  one  of  the  best  dressed  men  in  Paris.  His 
waistcoats  were  a  dream.  He  lived  luxuriously  in  those 
social  circles  which  were  his  especial  delight,  and  was 
accounted  somebody.  He  was  on  speaking  terms  with 
every  duchess  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  and  pretty 
actresses  besought  his  attention. 

As  for  Morissot,  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  get  him 
to  take  any  interest  in  anything  outside  politics,  and 
the  iniquities  of  whatever  Government  happened  to  be 
in  power.  His  pen  seemed  to  be  dipped  in  vitriol,  and 
his  daily  article  had  become  a  feature  of  Paris  journal- 
ism. His  tall  cadaverous  figure,  a  monocle  in  his  eye, 
became  known  on  the  Boulevards.  Now  that  he  was  in 
a  position  to  do  exactly  as  he  liked  he  desired  only  to  be 
left  to  his  beloved  politics. 

Thus  Antoine  was  left  to  himself  in  thinking  out  his 
schemes  for  greater  fame  and  circulation. 

A  sensation.  But  how?  He  had  just  finished  an 
excellent  ris  de  veau,  and  had  called  for  coffee,  when 
the  door  of  the  cafe  opened  and  Bourdot  came  in. 

"I  was  told  you  were  here,"  said  Society's  favorite. 
He  looked  round  the  modest  cafe  with  some  disfavor. 
"I  have  been  to  a  reception  cJiez  la  Duchesse  de  Pau. 
Everybody  was  there.  But  that  is  not  what  I  came  to 
see  you  about.  I  have  an  idea  for  you.  To-day  I 
visited  the  Louvre — a  rendezvous  with  a  certain  charm- 
ing person" — Bourdot  gave  a  twist  to  his  neat  mous- 


50    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

tache — "but  never  mind  that.  It  struck  me  then  how 
badly  our  national  treasures  are  guarded.  I  was  stand- 
ing by  La  Douloureuse — Leonardo  da  Vinci's  incom- 
parable masterpiece,  the  most  famous  picture  in  the 
world — and  imagine  it!  there  wasn't  a  gardlen  within 
sight  of  me !  I  could  have  put  that  enormously  valuable 
little  picture  under  my  overcoat  and  walked  off  without 
a  soul  seeing  me.  I  walked  through  other  galleries, 
and  it  was  the  same  everywhere.  With  the  exception 
of  the  Venus  de  Milo  who  is  rather  heavy,  practically 
anything  could  be  stolen.  ..." 

"Yes,  but  the  idea,"  said  Antoine,  a  little  impatiently. 

"I  am  coming  to  that.  Why  not  start  a  campaign 
for  the  better  guarding  of  our  national  treasures? 
Attack  Binot-Varillon.  It  would  be  popular.  He  has 
been  Minister  of  Fine  Arts  far  too  long.  No  matter 
how  often  the  Government  changes  you  will  find  him 
back  again.  Show  Paris  that  our  national  treasures 
of  incalculable  value  are  not  so  well  guarded  as  a  pair 
of  cotton  stockings  at  the  Bon  Marche.  Say  ..." 

"One  moment,"  interrupted  Antoine,  his  eyes  sud- 
denly agleam,  "that's  all  right  as  far  as  it  goes — but 
why  not  steal  La  Douloureuse?" 

"Steal  La  Doulorueuse!     You're  joking." 

"Not  really  steal  it — 'but  say  it  has  been  stolen. 
Why  not  publish  the  news  that  the  masterpiece  has 
been  stolen,  and  been  replaced  by  a  copy.  There  are 
always  artists  there  copying  these  chefs  d'cewure.  We 
will  say  that  this  has  been  done — that  the  real  La  Dou- 
loureuse is  already  across  the  Atlantic,  in  the  possession 
of  an  American  millionaire  who  has  paid  a  fantastic 
sum  for  it.  That  will  shock  Paris.  There  will  be  a 
great  sensation,  the  Ministry  of  Fine  Arts  will  deny 
it,  but  a  lot  of  people  will  believe  us.  Then  when  the 
scandal  !has  got  well  started  we  will  confess  that  the 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  51 

story  is  a  fabrication — but  point  out  that  it  was  done 
to  draw  attention  to  the  criminal  way  in  which  our 
treasures  are  left  unguarded.  Paris  will  laugh.  We 
shall  be  forgiven — but  we  shall  have  a  sensation. 
Hein?" 

"It  is  ingenious — but  it  is  going  too  far."  Bourdot 
shook  his  head.  "We  could  hardly  do  that." 

"But  why  not.  La  Lumiere  'still  has  its  way  to 
make.  It  wants  to  be  noticed.  We  fabricate  a  sensa- 
tion— but  in  a  good  cause.  The  moment  we  announce 
why  we  have  done  it  Paris  will  be  with  us.  I  tell  you, 
Bourdot,  it  is  a  splendid  idea.  It  grows  as  I  think  of 
it."  His  'arms  were  waving  now  eloquently.  "I  can 
see  the  excitement  in  Paris ;  the  anger  at  the  news  that 
the  greatest  of  all  pictures  has  been  stolen;  the  doubts 
when  the  official  denial  is  given — and  then  the  relief 
and  the  roar  of  laughter  when  we  explain.  Come,  we 
must  put  this  to  Morissot.  We  shall  have  all  Paris 
talking  to-morrow." 

Bourdot  brightened  up  a  little  at  this.  Antoine's 
enthusiasm  was  of  a  very  infectious  quality.  But  he 
had  a  last  word  to  say : 

"Listen,  Antoine.  This  is  your  affair,  your  respon- 
sibility. ..." 

"Ah!  you  take  life  too  seriously!  There  is  nothing 
to  fear.  Your  duchesses  will  laugh.  You  will  be  more 
popular  than  ever.  Come!" 

They  found  Morissot  deep  in  a  scathing  attack  on 
the  Government's  foreign  policy.  The  Governiment 
was  only  six  weeks  old,  but  Morissot  'had  already  laid 
to  its  charge  an  appalling  list  of  crimes  and  errors. 

He  laid  his  pen  aside  and  listened  to  Antoine's  lyrical 
exposition  of  the  scheme. 

"It  seems  rather  an  extravagant  idea,"  he  said  when 
Antoine  had  finished ;  "but  if  you  have  made  your  mind 


52         THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

up  I  suppose  there  is  no  use  in  trying  to  stop  you. 
Binot-Varillon  has  certainly  many  enemies  in  the  Gov- 
ernment. ...  I  leave  it  to  you."  And  he  picked  up 
his  pen  again. 

"So  be  it,"  cried  Antoine.  "Bourdot,  man  vieux,  en 
marche!  Tell  Paris  in  your  own  admirable  way  how 
she  has  been  ravished  of  her  proudest  treasure." 


II 


THE  article  appeared  next  day.  It  was  on  the  front 
page,  in  bold  type  and  adorned  with  sensational  head- 
lines. It  told  Paris  how  the  most  famous  and  the 
most  historic  painting  in  the  world  had  been  stolen 
from  the  treasure-house  of  the  capital  and  taken  away 
across  the  broad  Atlantic. 

"What  is  a  few  million  dollars,  more  or  less,  to  these 
American  millionaires  with,  their  fantastic  fortunes?" 
wrote  Bourdot.  "But  to  Paris  the  loss  is  irreparable. 
She  has  been  ravished  of  La  Dovloureuse,  and  while 
some  Transatlantic  Croesus  gloats  in  secret  over  the 
marvel  which  he  is  compelled  to  keep  'hidden  from  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  the  City  of  Light  is  bereft  of  this 
incomparable  gem  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  this 
glittering  jewel  of  pictorial  art." 

Antoine  was  down  early  at  the  office  next  morning. 
The  first  sign  of  interest  came  in  a  telephone  call  from 
the  Echo  du  Soir,  an  evening  paper,  which  desired  to 
know  what  truth  there  was  in  the  story.  Antoine  took 
the  receiver. 

"Mais  comment!  Do  you  think  La  LumHere  would 
publish  such  a  statement  unless  it  had  the  very  best 
grounds  for  doing  so?" 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  53 

"But  then,  if  true,  this  matter  is  of  the  very  first 
importance.  It  is  a  national  scandal." 

"Perfectly,"  returned  Antoine. 

"But  we  have  communicated  with  the  Ministry  of 
Fine  Arts,"  the  voice  over  the  telephone  went  on,  "and 
they  assure  us  that  there  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  the 
story." 

"Naturally.  But  do  you  suppose  them  at  once  to 
confess  to  a  -scandal  which  will  electrify  France?  Of 
course,  they  will  deny  it — to  the  last  moment." 

"Then  we  publish  the  story  on  your  authority. 
Have  you  any  further  details  to  give  us?" 

"Not  at  present.  But  look  in  La  Lumiere  to-morrow 
morning.  Possibly  you  will  see  something  there.  ..  ,.  . 
Bon  jour,  Monsieur." 

Antoine  hung  up  the  receiver  gaily. 

"Ca  marche!"  he  murmured.  "We  are  getting  pub- 
licity. Paris  will  hum  with  this  to-day." 

Within  the  next  half-hour  there  were  inquiries  from 
four  other  evening  papers.  There  were  urgent  requests 
for  something  more  corroborative  in  the  way  of  detail, 
but  these  Antoine  begged  politely  to  decline  for  the 
present. 

With  the  early  afternoon  the  first  editions  of  the 
evening  papers  were  out.  All  of  them  reproduced 
boldly  the  article  of  La  Lumiere.  One  of  them  had  a 
special  article  recounting  a  visit  paid  by  its  representa- 
tive to  the  Louvre,  where  the  picture  of  La  Douloureuse 
tras  still  hanging  on  the  wall. 

"But  was  this  the  original  or  the  copy?"  the  account 
asked.  "Mystery !  That  is  a  point  which  can  only  be 
settled  by  the  experts." 

The  afternoon  seemed  to  pass  very  slowly.  Bourdot 
went  out  to  see  what  the  Boulevards  were  saying,  and 
oame  back  in  half  an  hour  with  the  report  that  every- 


54    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

body  was  talking  of  the  affair.  People  were  asking 
was  it  blague  or  was  it  really  true?  Generally  the 
inclination  was  to  believe  the  story. 

"It's  warming  up,"  said  Antoine  with  a  chuckle. 
"I  wonder  what  we  shall  tell  the  public  to-morrow? 
Events  must  decide." 

"Listen!     What's   that?"   said  Bourdot   suddenly. 
"They  are  shouting  something  on  the  Boulevard." 

They  opened  *a  window.  Down  the  broad  avenue  a 
number  of  shabby  camelots  were  tearing,  shouting  at 
the  top  of  their  voices  and  waving  a  fresh  edition  of 
the  evening  papers.  The  two  strained  their  ears  to 
catch  what  was  being  shouted.  At  last  from  the  hoarse 
•chorus  the  message  came  to  them :  "Disappearance  of 
La  Douloureuse  from  the  Louvre!" 

They  looked  at  each  other. 

"Disappearance!"  said  Bourdot.  "What  does  that 
mean." 

Antoine  laughed. 

"It  means,  man  vieux,  that  we  are  being  taken  seri- 
ously. The  officials  have  removed  the  picture  to  examine 
it  and  see  if  there  is  anything  in  our  story.  But  send 
for  a  paper  quick,  and  we  shall  see." 

Bourdot  ran  out  himself,  thinking  nothing  of  dig- 
nity. He  caught  a  flying  camelot,  and  was  back  in  a 
twinkling.  He  spread  the  paper  out  on  the  table. 

The  announcement  was  very  short.  In  the  morning, 
it  said,  the  famous  picture  (or  its  copy)  was  still  there. 
In  the  afternoon  it  had  disappeared.  The  officials  of 
the  Louvre,  questioned,  maintained  a  discreet  silence. 
At  the  Ministry  of  Fine  Arts  there  was  no  information 
to  be  obtained.  What  could  this  mean  ?  Had  La  Dou- 
loureuse now  been  stolen  for  the  first  time,  or  was  it 
simply  that  M.  Binot-Varillon  had  had  the  picture 
removed  in  order  to  test  what  truth  there  might  be  in 


"LA  DOULOUREUSE"  55 

the  report  given  that  morning  in  La  Lumiere?  Events 
would  show.  In  the  meantime  careful  inquiries  were 
being  continued. 

"As  I  thought,"  said  Antoine  gleefully.  "But  this 
is  a  splendid  development.  Paris  will  certainly  talk 
•about  us  now." 

Morissot  came  in  at  this  moment.  People  were 
snatching  up  the  evening  papers,  he  said.  The  affair 
was  the  only  subject  of  conversation  in  the  cafes. 

"Bravo!  It  couldn't  have  gone  better!"  Antoine 
rubbed  his  hands.  "Binot-Varillon  is  taking  us  seri- 
ously. Before  the  evening  is  out  he  will  be  compelled 
to  make  an  official  statement.  He  will,  of  course,  issue 
a  complete  denial  of  our  story.  In  that  case  what  do 
we  .  .  ." 

There  came  a  loud  rat-rat  on  the  door.  Jean,  the 
doorkeeper  from  the  outer  office,  entered,  a  visiting  card 
in  'his  hand.  He  handed  the  card  to  Antoine. 

"This  gentleman  is  waiting  in  the  ante-room,  Mon- 
sieur, and  says  he  desires  to  see  somebody  in  authority 
at  once." 

Antoine  stared  at  the  card  in  his  hand  and  without 
a  word  passed  it  on.  The  others  read  and  saw: 

[M.  Paul  Victor  Binot-Varillon, 

Sous-Secretaire  d'Etat  au  Ministere  des 
Beaux-Arts. 

Bourdot  turned  a  little  pale. 

"Sapristi!  The  Minister  of  Fine  Arts!  What  do 
we  say?" 

"The  only  thing  to  do,"  said  Antoine,  "is  to  hear 
what  he  has  to  say  first.  No  doubt  he  is  very  annoyed. 
But  we  must  see  him.  Jean,  show  the  visitor  in." 


56         THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

III 

A  MOMENT  later  M.  Binot-Varillon  entered.  A  rather 
portly  and  extremely  distinguished-looking  gentleman 
of  any  age  between  fifty  and  sixty,  he  carried  a  shining 
silk  hat  in  his  hand  and  the  rosette  of  an  important 
decoration  in  his  buttonhole. 

"Messieurs,"  he  said,  and  bowed,  with  a  sweep  of  his 
ihat,  -which  included  all  three. 

"Permit  me,  Monsieur  le  Ministre,"  said  Antoine. 
He  presented  his  two  companions  and  himself,  care- 
fully assigning  to  each  his  proper  station  in  the  control 
of  La  Lumiere.  Then  he  pushed  a  chair  forward  for 
the  distinguished  visitor. 

"Be  seated,  Monsieur,  I  pray  you,"  he  said  in  his 
very  best  manner. 

M.  Binot-Varillon  sat  down,  placed  his  hat  carefully 
on  his  knees,  and  regarded  the  three  Directors  of  La 
Lumiere.  Then  he  spoke: 

"You  are  aware,  Messieurs,  I  presume,  of  the  reason 
of  my  visit." 

The  three  Directors  nodded.  They  were  prepared 
for  a  torrent  of  reproach. 

The  Minister  spoke  again,  but  his  tone  was  quiet. 

"May  I  ask  you,  Messieurs,  what  it  is  you  propose 
to  do  in  the  matter?" 

"To  do?"  said  Antoine,  feeling  rather  helpless.  He 
felt  that  it  was  as  good  a  reply  as  any  other. 

"Exactly.  What  is  the  next  step  you  propose  to 
take?" 

The  three  Directors  exchanged  glances.  This  was 
awkward.  Here  was  Binot-Varillon  asking  what  was 
the  next  step  in  their  campaign.  It  seemed  to  take  the 
wind  out  of  the  whole  scheme,  and  besides,  they  didn't 
know  themselves. 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  57 

"Er,  may  I  ask  why  you  wish  to  know?"  said  An- 
toine  at  last. 

"Ma  foil  Why  I  wish  to  know?"  For  the  first  time 
their  visitor  showed  some  animation.  "And  who  should 
wish  to  know,  if  I  do  not ;  I  am  the  Under-Secretary  for 
Fine  Arts.  I  must  know  at  once." 

Antoine  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead.  This 
was  'bewildering.  He  looked  at  his  companions,  but 
they  did  not  help  him.  Did  M.  Binot-Varillon  expect 
to  be  admitted  on  the  spot  to  all  the  secrets  of 
La  Lumiere?" 

"And  you  wish  to  know  what  we  intend  to  do  next?" 
said  Antoine  after  a  further  pause. 

"Precisely." 

"Then,  M.  Binot-Varillon,  with  all  respect,  I  am 
afraid  that  is  quite  impossible." 

"Evidently,"  said  Bourdot. 

"Of  course,"  said  Morissot. 

The  three  directors  were  firmly  agreed  on  this  point. 

The  Under-Secretary  for  Fine  Arts  seemed  about  to 
become  very  angry,  but  controlled  'his  emotion. 

"Listen,  Messieurs.  I  wish  to  conduct  this  affair  as 
delicately  as  possible.  But  you  must  see  that  the  atti- 
tude you  are  taking  up  will  become,  sooner  or  later, 
an  impossible  one.  I  beg  of  you,  act  frankly  with  me, 
and  all  yet  may  be  well.  Otherwise  .  .  ."  and  he 
spread  out  his  gloved  hands  with  a  gesture  that  might 
have  meant  many  things. 

"And  what  precisely  is  it  you  desire?"  asked  Antoine 
again. 

"I  desire,  Messieurs,  in  my  official  capacity  as  an 
Under-Secretary  of  State,  to  be  taken  into  your  com- 
plete confidence." 

"Then  I  can  only  repeat,  Monsieur,  that  for  the 
present  at  any  rate,  it  is  quite  impossible." 


58         THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"And  how  long  shall  I  have  to  wait  for  your  confi- 
dence ?" 

"Ah,  who  can  say?"  said  Antoine,  with  his  pleasant- 
est  smile. 

But  these  words  had  quite  an  unexpected  effect  on 
the  Under-Secretary.  The  custodian  of  the  national 
treasures  jumped  to  his  feet  and  banged  his  clenched 
fist  hard  on  the  table  in  a  passion. 

"Then,  Messieurs,"  he  cried,  "I  must  warn  you  that 
you  are  placing  yourselves  in  a  very  dangerous  posi- 
tion. The  most  famous  picture  in  the  world  has  been 
stolen  ..." 

"What!"  The  cry  of  'amazement  that  came  from 
the  three  Directors  as  from  one  man  should  have  told 
the  Minister  something.  But  he  was  too  agitated  him- 
self to  judge  aright  the  meaning  of  their  exclamation. 

"La  Douloureuse  has  been  stolen,"  repeated  the 
Under-Secretary,  now  shouting  with  anger,  "and  it  is 
you,  gentlemen,  who  have  announced  the  fact  to  the 
world.  You  must  know  who  the  thief  is.  If  you  persist 
in  shielding  him  then  the  State  will  persist  in  knowing 
how  far  you  may  share  the  responsibility  of  the  crime." 

'A.  tense  silence  followed  this  outburst.  Antoine, 
Morissot  and  Bourdot  gazed  at  each  other  in  stupefac- 
tion. Their  brains  were  in  a  whirl.  Could  this  amaz- 
ing thing  be  true?  La  Douloureuse  really  stolen?  But 
there  was  M.  Binot-Varillon  telling  them  so !  Antoine 
felt  as  if  he  wanted  to  laugh  hysterically.  The  impos- 
sible thing  he  had  invented  so  light-heartedly  the  night 
before  was  <a  fact ! 

M.  Binot-Varillon  gazed  with  some  satisfaction  on  the 
impression  his  grave  words  had  created. 

"I  see,  Messieurs,  that  you  are  not  wholly  insensible 
to  the  hint  I  gave  you.  And  now,  please — the  name  of 


"LA  DOULOUREUSE"  59 

the  thief  or  thieves !"  He  faced  Antoine,  as  the  spokes- 
man of  the  three. 

Antoine's  fingers  played  nervously  in  and  out  of  his 
pointed  beard.  This  was  the  very  devil  of  a  situation. 
Should  'he  tell  the  truth  at  once?  The  Under-Secretary 
might  not  believe  it.  And  then  there  was  La  Lumiere 
to  be  considered.  By  Saint  Denis!  they  had  stumbled 
on  the  sensation  of  a  century.  That  could  not  be 
lightly  thrown  away.  It  would  mean  the  making  of 
the  paper  for  all  time.  But  then  again,  how  were  they 
to  take  further  advantage  of  it?  They  knew  nothing 
more  of  the  mystery  than  Binot-Varillon  himself.  They 
might  even  be  accused  of  stealing  La  Douloureuse! 
Who  would  then  believe  their  story? 

These  thoughts,  'and  more,  flashed  like  lightning 
through  his  brain.  This  angry  Under-Secretary  was 
gazing  at  him  fixedly  all  the  time,  tapping  his  fingers 
impatiently  on  the  table.  Sapristi,  what  was  to  be 
done!  Let  him  think  calmly  just  for  a  moment. 

Bourdot's  voice  broke  the  silence. 

"I  think,  Monsieur,  that  if  you  will  permit,  we  will 
retire  for  a  moment  and  discuss  this  matter  together." 
He  looked  swiftly  across  at  Antoine,  whose  face  shone 
with  sudden  relief  at  the  words. 

"If  Monsieur  will  permit  ?"  he  added. 

A  frown  of  keen  disappointment  crossed  the  Under- 
Secretary's  face.  For  a  brief  moment  he  had  flattered 
himself  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  learning  the  truth 
of  an  affair  which — ever  since  an  appalling  moment 
early  that  afternoon  when  it  was  discovered  that  the 
true  La  Dovloureuse  had  really  been  replaced  by  a 
clever  copy — had  made  his  well-ordered  life  change 
suddenly  into  a  horrid  nightmare.  And  here  these  three 
wretched  journalists  were  about  to  go  and  talk  over  a 


60    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

mystery  which  at  that  moment  he  would  have  given  half 
his  personal  fortune  to  be  at  the  end  of. 

"Messieurs,  I  warn — I  implore  you.  Put  an  end  to 
this  at  once.  You  are  good  citizens,  you  are  loyal 
Frenchmen.  You  should  not  have  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion about  giving  up  to  justice  a  wretch  who  has  rav- 
ished France  of  so  much.  Tell  me  the  truth  I  pray 
you,  and  put  an  end  to  this  agonizing  suspense.  To- 
morrow all  France  will  be  waiting  to  hear  the  truth. 
What  can  I  tell  them?" 

Antoine,  as  'he  looked  at  the  now  agitated  face  of  the 
Minister,  and  saw  his  evident  anxiety  and  distress,  felt 
an  impulse  to  tell  him  the  truth.  But  then,  what  hacf 
they  to  tell  him?  And  there  was  La  Lumiere.  That 
must  be  their  first  consideration. 

"I  regret,  Monsieur  le  Ministre,"  -he  said,  as  gently 
as  possible,  "but  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  we 
should  confer  on  this  matter.  But  we  shall  be  back 
very  shortly.  I  beg  of  you  to  excuse  us."  And  with  a 
bow  to  their  agitated  visitor,  the  three  withdrew. 

"A  miracle!"  exclaimed  Antoine  when  they  were 
alone.  "To  think  the  thing  I  imagined  yesterday — the 
incredible  thing — should  now  prove  to  be  true.  What 
a  triumph  for  the  paper,  Tries  amis." 

"Yes,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"  said 
Bourdot,  a  little  coldly.  "All  you  know  is  that  the 
masterpiece  has  been  stolen.  How  are  you  going  to 
extract  advantage  from  the  situation  when  you  know 
nothing?" 

"That  is  true.  We  are  as  much  in  the  dark  as  our 
poor  friend  there.  But  are  we  to  tell  him  we  know 
nothing?  No!  We  at  once  lose  all  our  power  in  an 
amazing  situation.  Think  what  our  rivals  would  give 
to  know  even  what  we  know  now!  Must  we  then  send 
ihim  away  thinking  we  know  a  great  deal?  Yes!  After 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE "  61 

all,  anything  may  turn  up.  We  may  yet  be  able  to  tell 
the  world  the  full  story  of  the  theft  of  La  Douloureuse. 
Think  of  it!  La  Lumiere  first  with  such  a  piece  of 
news !  My  friends,  pour  V amour  de  Dieu,  think  of  it ! 
You  thought  I  was  foolish  in  announcing  an  incredible 
thing.  The  incredible  becomes  true.  Do  we  then  turn 
back  at  such  a  moment?  Never!"  Antoine' s  face  was 
aflame  with  excitement  and  enthusiasm. 

"And  the  police?"  .said  Morissot  simply. 

"Ah,  bah!  The  police!  What  then?  Even  if  we 
fail  .  .  .  but  we  shall  not  fail.  I  feel  it.  Come 
friends,  enthusiasm,  audacity!  We  should  be  cravens, 
miserable  wretches,  to  show  our  hands  at  such  a  moment. 
Napoleon  believed  in  'his  star.  Let  us  believe  in  ours." 

Bourdot  and  Morissot  exchanged  glances. 

"The  incredible  has  happened,  it  is  true,"  said  the 
first.  "There  is  just  a  chance,  of  course,  that  it  may 
happen  again." 

"It  is  just  possible,"  said  the  other.  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"Bravo!"  cried  Antoine,  breaking  in.  "We  are 
agreed,  then.  The  incredible  will,  it  must,  happen 
again.  And  now  to  Binot-Varillon.  But  first  of  all 
we  must  find  out  how  much  this  poor  Minister  knowis 
about  the  affair.  He  should  be  more  useful  to  us  than 
we  can  be  to  him.  Come !"  And  he  led  the  way  swiftly 
back  again. 

"And  now,  Messieurs,"  said  the  Under-Secretary 
hopefully,  as  they  entered. 

"First  of  all,"  said  Antoine,  "we  should  be  glad  if 
you  would  be  good  enough  to  tell  us  when  the  news  of 
the  theft  first  came  to  your  knowledge." 

"But  to-day.  Frankly,  when  your  article  was  first 
shown  to  me  I  roared  with  laughter.  But  in  face  of 
such  a  categorical  charge  it  was  my  duty  to  have  the 


62        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

picture  examined,  especially  as  there  were  many  inqui- 
ries on  the  matter  during  the  morning.  The  examina- 
tion was  made  early  this  afternoon.  To  our  amaze- 
ment— to  our  horror — it  was  seen  at  once  that,  as  your 
admirable  paper  had  stated,  a  substitution  had  been 
made." 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  that  in  your  mind?" 

"None,  alas!  The  copy  is  a  very  clever  one,  and 
might  pass  scrutiny  from  the  public  that  visits  the 
Louvre.  But  to  the  expert  eye  the  abominable  impos- 
ture shouted  aloud  at  once." 

"And  has  your  department  no  theory  as  to  how  or 
when  the  substitution  was  made?" 

"Alas,  but  little.  The  panel  was  new,  and  was  almost 
certainly  made  in  Paris.  The  work,  as  I  say,  is  that 
of  a  skilful  artist.  Beyond  that  we  know  nothing  so 
far." 

"And  has  the  matter  yet  been  put  into  the  hands  of 
the  police?" 

"Not  yet.  That  is  a  point  which  depends  to  some 
extent  on  you.  If  we  could  get  the  masterpiece  back 
immediately  it  is  possible — I  cannot  promise  this — but 
it  is  quite  possible  that  we  should  be  glad  to  let  the 
matter  develop  no  further.  But  you  stated  this  morn- 
ing that  the  picture  had  already  gone  to  America.  In 
that  case,  of  course,  it  would  largely  be  an  affair  of 
diplomatic  arrangement.  And  now,  Messieurs,  I  be- 
seech you." 

Antoine  drew  a  long  breath.     This  was  not  easy. 

"Monsieur  le  Ministre,  we  regret  to  say  that  at 
present  it  is  absolutely  impossible  for  us  to  throw  fur- 
ther light  on  this  mysterious  affair.  Could  we  do  so  we 
should  be  most  happy,  but  at  present  our  lips  are  sealed. 
Every  profession  has  its  inviolable  secrets — its  code  of 
ihonor,  which  it  cannot  break.  I  need  hardly  tell  you 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  63 

that  none  of  us  has  anything  to  do  with  the  theft  of 
this  incomparable  treasure.  The  knowledge  of  it  has 
come  to  us  in  the  most  accidental  fashion.  But  this  we 
are  glad  to  promise — that  the  moment  we  are  able  to 
tell  you  anything  more  we  shall  be  only  too  glad  to 
do  so." 

Antoine  spoke  with  admirable  suavity  and  courtesy. 
But  as  he  spoke  the  countenance  of  the  Under-Secre- 
tary  changed  from  expectancy  to  disappointment  again, 
and  from  that  to  dark  anger. 

He  rose  abruptly.  They  rose  and  faced  him  across 
the  table. 

"And  that  is  your  last  word,  Messieurs?"  he  in- 
quired with  frigid  politeness. 

"For  the  present — we  regret." 

"Bon!"  The  exclamation  came  like  a  pistol  shot. 
"I  had  hoped  this  matter  might  have  been  pursued  ami- 
cably. But  in  face  of  your  attitude  I  see  that  other 
means  must  be  employed.  You  shall  hear  more." 

And  with  a  bow  the  Minister  was  gone. 

"There  goes  one  who  thinks  we  are  in  league  with 
rogues,"  said  Antoine.  "And  now  we  must  do  some  hard 
thinking.  It  will  be  no  easy  matter  to  decide  what  is 
to  appear  in  La  Lumiere  to-morrow  morning." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Morissot,  "I  shall  make  a  special 
political  note  on  this  scandalous  affair.  After  all,  with 
a  Government  like  this,  one  may  expect  anything.5' 


THE  press  of  Paris  next  morning  reflected  a  singular 
incoherency  on  a  matter  which  had  suddenly  become  one 
of  national  importance.  Some  papers  said  that  La  Dour- 
loureuse  had  been  stolen,  and  some  denied  it  flatljr. 


64    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Others  frankly  confessed  they  did  not  know,  and  said 
furious  things  about  the  Minister  of  Fine  Arts,  whom 
they  had  tried  in  vain  to  interview.  Only  a  minor  offi- 
cial at  the  Ministry  of  Fine  Arts  had  been  seen,  who 
said  that  it  was  quite  true  that  famous  picture  'had  been 
examined  but  he  had  the  fullest  reasons  for  believing 
that  everything  was  in  order.  M.  Binot-Varillon,  he 
explained,  was  not  in  town,  or  he  would  have  made  this 
announcement  himself. 

But  although  opinions  were  so  varied  huge  head- 
lines and  excitement  on  "The  Mystery  of  La  Doulou- 
reuse"  were  universal. 

As  for  La  Lumiere  it  appeared  with  a  very  short  an- 
nouncement which  was  the  result  of  much  anxious 
thought  between  the  three  directors.  It  merely  asserted 
in  very  black  and  bold  type  that  its  sensational  story 
of  the  day  before  was  (alas!)  true,  but  that  for  the 
moment  reasons  of  a  grave  nature  prevented  La  Lumiere 
from  supplementing  this  information.  Soon  La  Lu~ 
miere  hoped  this  embargo  would  be  removed,  and  its 
readers  should  know  all  of  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able and  romantic  happenings  of  modern  times. 

It  was  just  the  sort  of  thing  to  sharpen  the  interest 
of  the  Paris  public  to  fever  heat. 

All  that  morning  the  telephone  bells  of  La  Lumiere 
rang  frantically.  Inquiries  came  from  every  conceiv- 
able kind  of  person.  Antoine  reached  the  office  about 
eleven  o'clock,  and  had  only  sat  down  in  his  room  for  a 
moment  when  an  excited  young  man  entered.  This  was 
Durand,  the  general  reporter  of  La  Lumiere,  who  de- 
lighted in  murders,  burglaries  and  crime  of  all  kinds. 

"I  have  been  answering  the  telephone  all  the  morn- 
ing," he  said.  "It  is  fantastic." 

"And  what  have  you  told  them?"  asked  Antoine, 
smiling. 


"LA  DOULOUREUSE  "  65 

"Parbleu,  what  could  I  tell  them?  And,  apropos, 
can  I  do  anything?  ...  I  would  give  anything  to  be 
engaged  on  this  mystery." 

"Not  yet,  my  good  Durand.  Perhaps  in  good  time 
we  shall  be  glad  of  your  services." 

Left  to  himself  Antoine  ran  quickly  through  the 
letters  on  his  table,  with  a  vague  hope  that  there  might 
be  one  amongst  them  which  would  throw  light  on  the 
mystery  of  La  Douloureuse.  But  all  were  plain, 
straightforward  business  letters.  There  was  no  mys- 
terious communication  asking  for  a  secret  meeting  when 
all  would  be  revealed. 

He  pondered.  The  situation  was  difficult.  They 
were  not  the  only  ones  who  were  temporizing.  Binot- 
Varillon  was  evidently  doing  the  same  thing.  He  had 
refused  so  far  to  tell  the  public  the  truth,  hoping  that 
something  would  come  to  light  which  would  enable  the 
authorities  to  recover  the  picture  before  the  scandal 
broke.  And  La  Lumiere.  It  could  not  go  on  telling 
the  public  morning  after  morning  that  some  day  it 
would  hear  the  truth.  The  joke  then  would  be  against 
La  Lumiere. 

An  idea  came  to  him.  He  rang  for  Durand,  who 
appeared  in  a  flash. 

"Go  down  to  the  Louvre,"  he  said,  "and  see  if  La 
Douloureuse  is  in  its  place  or  not.  That's  all." 

Durand  disappeared,  delighted  to  be  in  touch  with 
the  great  mystery. 

Antoine  ihad  been  thinking  hard  about  the  problem 
all  night.  Desperately,  he  resumed  his  labors  now. 
They  ought  to  be  able  to  turn  the  situation  immensely 
to  the  advantage  of  the  paper.  But  how?  He  could 
see  no  way  out.  They  were  against  a  brick  wall. 

Providence  entered  in  the  shape  of  Jean. 

"There  is  an  individual  outside,  Monsieur,  who  de- 


66        THE  ADVENTURES  OF.  ANTOINE 

sires  at  once  to  see  somebody  in  authority.  He  says  his 
business  is  most  important." 

"What  is  he  like,  this  individual?' 

"He  looks  like  one  of  these  daubers  in  paint  who 
live  in  a  garret  in  Montmartre.  I  should  say  he  was 
certainly  a  painter."  Jean  submitted  this  in  a  tone 
of  strong  disapproval. 

Antoine  looked  up. 

"A  painter!  Show  him  in  at  once.  But  quickly, 
Jean!" 

A  painter!  Could  this  mean  something?  In  a  few 
moments  a  tall  dark  man  walked  slowly  through  the 
door.  He  WG.S  shabbily  dressed,  in  a  faded  velveteen 
jacket  and  loose  trousers,  and  he  carried  a  soft  and 
shapeless  black  felt  hat  in  his  hand.  He  had  an  ample 
beard  and  moustache,  but  Antoine  judged  him  to  be  a 
man  of  little  more  than  thirty.  His  features  were 
good  and  his  nose  strongly  aquiline,  but  his  eyes  had 
a  tired  expression,  and  he  looked  like  a  man  who  had 
lived  unwisely.  Antoine  motioned  him  to  a  seat. 

"Merci,  Monsieur."  The  visitor  spoke  in  deep  and 
slightly  husky  tones.  "May  I  have  the  honor  of  know- 
ing whom  I  am  addressing." 

Antoine  detailed  his  name  and  station,  not  without  a 
touch  of  pride. 

"Parfait!  You  may  possibly  guess,  Monsieur,  the 
nature  of  the  business  on  which  I  am  come." 

"On  the  contrary"  said  Antoine  blandly. 

The  visitor  gripped  the  arms  of  his  chair.  He  cast 
a  swift  glance  round  the  room,  as  if  to  be  sure  that 
nobody  could  overhear.  Then  leaning  far  over  the  table 
he  spoke  in  a  low  and  intense  voice: 

"How  came  you  to  know  that  La  Douloureuse  was 
stolen?" 

Antoine  stared  fascinated  at  the  visitor.    Here,  then, 


"LA  DOULOUREUSE"  67 

was  the  key  to  the  mystery,  this  shabby,  gloomy  Indi- 
vidual !  But  what  to  reply  to  him  ? 

There  came  a  sharp  rap  on  the  door  and  Jean  en- 
tered with  a  visiting  card  in  his  hand.  The  idiot !  An- 
toine  looked  at  him  angrily,  but  Jean  advanced  fear- 
lessly and  without  a  word  placed  the  card  in  the  Di- 
rector's hand.  Antoine  read  it,  and  started: 

Paul  Sauvage,  Inspecteur  de  la  Surete. 

The  police  already!  And  at  such  a  moment!  Just 
when  he  was  on  the  verge  of  knowing  something! 

"He  desires  to  see  you  without  any  delay,"  Jean  mur- 
mured. 

"Did  you  say  I  was  in?" 

"He  says  he  knows  you  are!" 

Somehow  these  words  brought  a  chill  to  Antoine. 
They  seemed  to  breathe  the  power  of  the  police.  An- 
toine waved  Jean  out  of  the  room. 

What  to  do?  Where  the  deuce  were  Bourdot  and 
Morissot?  He  must  decide  quickly.  It  would  never  do 
for  the  Inspector  to  see  his  visitor.  He  would  put  two 
and  two  together  in  a  flash.  He  would  pounce  on  them 
both  like  a  hawk. 

"Listen  to  me!"  Antoine  spoke  intently  to  the  mys- 
terious visitor.  "There  is  soneone  here  whom  I  must 
see  at  once.  It  is  imperative — although  I  should  very 
much  like  not  to  see  him.  Tenez!  I  will  show  you  his 
card." 

He  held  it  out  across  the  table.  The  visitor  looked 
at  it,  and  his  face  turned  a  shade  paler.  A  terrified 
look  came  into  his  eyes.  He  looked  around  the  room 
as  if  seeking  to  escape,  and  half  rose  in  his  chair. 

"Do  not  go,"  said  Antoine.  "If  you  try  to  pass 
out  of  the  building  you  will  be  seen — and  understood ! 
These  Inspectors  have  sharp  eyes.  Through  this 
idoor  is  an  empty  room  where  you  can  be  in  peace.  If 


68        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

yon  wait  there  until  he  has  gone  I  give  you  my  word 
of  honor  that  I  will  not  tell  him  of  your  promise." 

"You  promise,"  croaked  the  visitor,  his  eyes  still 
wild. 

"On  my  honor." 

Antoine  opened  a  door  and  passed  into  the  next 
room.  It  was  the  room  where  Bourdot  recorded  the 
doings  of  the  social  world,  and  it  had  the  advantage 
that  there  was  no  way  out  of  it  save  through  Antoine's 
room.  Thus  his  visitor  could  not  escape  without  run- 
ning the  gauntlet  of  the  Inspector. 

"An  idea,"  said  Antoine.  "You  are  an  artist,  is  it 
not?  Take  off  your  hat  and  coat.  Here  is  paper 
and  a  pencil.  Sit  down  at  this  table  and  if  by  any 
chance  anybody  should  enter,  you  are  here,  working 
for  the  paper.  Comprenez?" 

The  visitor  nodded  and  sat  down. 

Antoine  returned  to  his  room,  rang  for  Jean  and 
desired  him  to  show  in  the  Inspector  at  once. 

Inspector  Sauvage  in  his  neat  dark  blue  suit  and 
bowler  hat  had  the  air  of  a  typical  father  of  a  family. 
But  he  had  also  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  most 
alert  and  relentless  criminal  hunters  of  the  Paris  police. 

"Bon  jour,  Inspecteur,"  said  Antoine,  cordially. 

"Bon  jour,  M'sieur.  You  are  M.  Antoine  Poiret, 
Director  of  this  journel?" 

Antoine  bowed. 

"Good.  We  will  come  to  the  point.  I  wish  to  know 
all  that  you  know  about  the  theft  of  La  Douloureuse" 

"That  will  not  take  long,"  said  Antoine  with  a 
smile.  "I  know  nothing." 

The  detective  looked  hard  at  him. 

"Ecoutez,  M'sieur.  We  will  be  frank.  It  is  no 
good  trying  to  play  that  game  with  the  Surete.  You 
are  a  Director  of  La  Lumiere.  Your  paper  announced 


"LA  DOULOUREUSE"  69 

the  theft  of  the  picture.  Now — I  will  be  frank  again. 
I  do  not  believe  at  present  that  you  were  directly  con- 
cerned in  the  theft  of  this  masterpiece.  But  you 
know  something  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  stolen. 
I  wish — the  police  authorities  wish — that  you  should  tell 
all  you  know." 

"I  repeat  that  I  know  nothing  of  how  it  was  stolen." 

"M'sieur,  you  are  playing  with  me.  But  we  will 
put  it  another  way.  When  did  you  first  hear  that  La 
Douloureuse  was  stolen?" 

"Yesterday  afternoon,"  said  Antoine  calmly. 

The  detective  bounded  in  his  chair. 

"Yesterday  afternoon!  But  you  announced  it  in 
yesterday  morning's  paper." 

"True.  But  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  really  stolen 
until  M.  Binot-Varillon  himself  told  me  yesterday 
afternoon." 

The  detective  stroked  his  dark  moustache  with  a  slow 
gesture.  His  eyes  glittered  as  they  rested  on  Antoine. 

"Ah,  M'sieur,  I  see.  You  jest  with  me.  But  under- 
stand me  well,  it  is  a  jest  that  may  turn  sour  for  the 
joker.  And  so,  this  treasure  which  you  announced  was 
stolen  in  the  morning — you  did  not  really  know  that  it 
had  been  stolen  until  M.  Binot-Varillon  told  you  in  the 
afternoon.  Parfait!  Very  amusing.  We  shall  see." 

"It  is  true  what  I  tell  you,  Inspector,"  said  Antoine 
earnestly.  "Let  me  explain.  I  announced  that  La 
Douloureuse  had  been  stolen  for  a  certain  reason.  At 
x  the  time  I  did  announce  it  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
that  such  was  the  case — had  anybody  told  me  so  I 
should  have  said  it  was  impossible,  absurd.  But  then, 
mark  what  happens.  The  Ministry  of  Fine  Arts 
examines  the  picture  and  finds  to  his  stupefaction  that 
La  Douloureuse  really  has  gone.  M.  Binot-Varillon 
comes  here  to  ask  me  all  about  it,  and  it  is  only  when 


70        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

from  his  own  lips  comes  the  startling  news  that  the 
masterpiece  has  disappeared  tliat  I  know  La  Douloureuse 
had  indeed  been  stolen." 

"Ah!"  The  Inspector's  eyes  twinkled  with  some- 
thing like  mirth.  "And  so  you  expect  me  to  believe 
that." 

"It  is  the  truth,  the  simple  truth." 

"And  why  did  you  announce  this  news  if  you  did  not 
believe  it  ?" 

"For  purely  business  reasons.  It  was  the  beginning 
of  a  campaign  which  I  was  about  to  start  for  the  better 
protection  of  our  art  galleries  and  museums.  You  see 
yourself,  Inspector,  how  badly  it  was  needed." 

"Hm !"  Inspector  Sauvage  seemed  for  the  first  time 
as  though  he  thought  Antoine  might  be  neither  a  mad- 
man nor  a  knave.  "And  since  M.  Binot-Varillon  called 
yesterday  have  you  learned  anything  further  as  to  how 
the  picture  disappeared?" 

"No,  but  I  have  hopes." 

"Ah !  And  on  what  are  they  based  ?"  The  detective 
leaned  forward  quickly. 

"My  smartest  reporter  is  now  at  the  Louvre  engaged 
on  the  case." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  The  Inspector  threw  his  'head  back, 
smacked  his  knee  and  roared  with  laughter. 

"Truly,  M'sieur  Poiret,  you  are  admirable.  Ah, 
c'est  epatant!  Your  smartest  reporter  at  the  Louvre !" 
And  he  roared  again,  the  tears  coming  into  his  eyes. 
He  rose  from  his  chair  still  laughing. 

"Au  'voir,  M'sieur  Poiret.  When  your  reporter  has 
learned  something  I  trust  you  will  let  me  know.  But  I 
have  no  doubt  we  shall  meet  again  in  any  case."  And 
he  was  gone. 

Antoine  sat  back,  and  laughed  in  his  turn.  The  door 
opened  again,  and  Bourdot  and  Morissot  came  in.  A 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  71 

cigarette  drooped  in  Morissot's  lips.  Bourdot  seemed 
a  little  less  shiny  than  usual.  They  both,  indeed,  were 
very  depressed. 

"You  seem  extremely  gay  this  morning,"  said  the  lat- 
ter peevishly.  "I  only  hope  you  can  see  a  way  out  of 
this  horrid  mess.  By  the  way,  who  was  that  we  met  on 
the  stairs?  He  was  chuckling  too." 

"That  was  Inspector  Sauvage,  of  the  Surete." 

"Ah!  Then  it  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  cried 
Bourdot  dramatically.  "The  police  are  on  our  backs 
already." 

"Not  at  all.  Do  you  know  whom  I  have  got  in 
there?"  whispered  Antoine.  He  pointed  to  the  door 
behind  him. 

"In  my  room?      No!      Whom?" 

"The  man  who  stole  La  Douloureuse!" 

"Saperlipopette!"  shouted  Bourdot,  and  made  one 
bound  for  the  door.  Even  Morissot  looked  startled. 


As  Bourdot  bounded  into  the  room,  with  Morissot  behind 
him  and  Antoine  in  the  rear,  the  tall  man  with  the  beard 
jumped  to  his  feet  with  an  expression  of  terror  and 
backed  away. 

"And  so  you  are  the  man  who  stole  La  Douloureuse?" 
said  Bourdot  in  a  voice  that  quivered  with  excitement. 

"Who  told  you  that?  Who  are  you?"  cried  the 
stranger  hoarsely.  He  stood  back  against  the  wall,  in 
his  shirt  sleeves,  a  pencil  held  as  though  it  were  a  dagger 
to  defend  himself,  his  face  pale  and  distraught. 

"Who  told  me?  Why,  this  gentleman,  M.  Poiret,  of 
course."  Bourdot  turned  round  and  pointed  at  Antoine. 
"Is  it  not  so?  Did  you  not  steal  La  Douloureuse?" 


72        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Then  you  have  betrayed  me !     These  are  detectives !" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Antoine  smoothly.  "Have  no  fear. 
These  gentlemen  are  my  co-directors."  The  look  of 
fear  left  the  features  of  the  stranger.  He  let  out  a 
long  breath  of  relief. 

"I  told  them  who  was  in  here  and  ..." 

"But  who  told  you  that  I  had  stolen  LaDouloureusef" 

"But,  come  now,"  Antoine  smiled,  an  indulgent,  quiz- 
zical smile.  "Is  it  not  so?" 

For  a  moment  the  eyes  of  the  stranger  met  his  de- 
fiantly. Then  the  stranger's  gaze  dropped. 

"Out.  C'est  vrai!  I  stole  La  Douloureuse!  Voila! 
At  last  I  have  told  somebody."  He  moved  to  a  chair 
and  sank  down  into  it,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  looking 
down  on  the  floor. 

There  was  a  silence  in  the  room.  The  three  Directors 
looked  at  each  other.  On  Antoine's  face  there  was  a 
touch  of  triumph.  Bourdot  took  his  right  hand, 
Morissot  the  left.  Quite  silently  they  shook.  Antoine 
felt  that  it  was  a  great  moment. 

The  silence  continued.  Antoine  bent  down  and  spoke 
softly  to  the  bent  figure. 

"Dites  done,  mon  ami.  You  'have  something  more  to 
tell  us.  Is  it  not  so?" 

The  man  looked  up.     His  face  was  haggard. 

"Yes,  if  you  wish.  I  will  tell  you  everything.  I 
must  tell  somebody.  But  send  for  some  absinthe — 
Pernod.  I  must  have  a  drink." 

Antoine  made  a  sign,  and  Morissot  disappeared.  In 
a  little  while  he  came  back  with  Jean,  who  carried  a  tray 
bearing  a  glass,  water,  sugar  and  a  large  bottle  filled 
with  a  greenish  fluid. 

"See  that  we  are  disturbed  on  no  account  whatever," 
said  Antoine  as  Jean  went  out.  He  went  to  the  door 
and  turned  the  key. 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE  "  73 


VI 


"My  name  is  Pierre  Xavier  Frangois  Marie  Lemaire." 

The  stranger  sat  well  back  in  Bourdot's  easy  chair. 
To  his  right  hand  was  a  large  glass  of  the  pearly  green 
liquid,  which  he  stirred  with  care.  He  took  a  long  pull 
at  it,  and  his  eyes  brightened. 

"By  profession  I  am  a  painter.  By  inclination  I  am, 
as  you  see,  a  drinker  of  absinthe.  No  doubt  it  accounts 
for  much. 

"I  stole  La  Douloureuse  six  months  ago.  Why  did 
I  steal  it,  you  may  ask?  I  hardly  know  myself.  But 
the  idea  came  into  my  head,  and  became  an  obsession. 
I  knew  I  should  know  no  peace  until  I  satisfied  it.  Since 
satisfying  it  I  have  known  torments. 

"At  that  time  I  was  copying  old  masters  in  the  Louvre 
for  a  well-known  art  dealer.  The  idea  of  stealing  the 
most  valuable  picture  in  the  world  came  to  me  one  after- 
noon when  I  -was  alone  in  a  particular  gallery  where  it 
hung.  It  would  have  been  quite  possible  at  that  moment 
to  put  the  picture  frame  and  all  under  my  cloak  and 
walk  off  with  it.  But  I  knew  that  discovery  of  the 
theft  would  come  almost  immediately,  and  that  suspicion 
must  almost  certainly  fall  on  me  as  a  frequenter  of  that 
section  of  the  Louvre.  I  determined  then,  to  make  a 
copy  of  the  masterpiece  and  at  a  convenient  moment  to 
make  the  substitution. 

"To  do  this  I  disguised  myself  by  the  simple  method 
of  shaving  off  my  beard  and  moustache  and  cutting  my 
hair.  I  did  not  desire  that  the  painter  seen  copying 
La  Douloureuse  should  be  identified  with  the  painter  who 
had  already  done  so  much  work  there. 

"I  •worked  on  the  copy  for  three  weeks.  Many 
tourists  admired  my  painting.  I  smiled  to  myself  when 


74        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

J  heard  people  say  that  they  would  as  soon  have  it  as 
the  original. 

"In  quiet  moments  I  had  taken  the  most  careful 
measurements  and  examined  how  the  masterpiece  was 
fastened  in.  I  am  fairly  expert  in  framing  pictures. 
I  knew  exactly  the  habits  of  the  attendants.  I  also 
arranged  my  easel  so  as  to  give  me  cover  behind  which 
I  could  work,  and  chose  a  moment  shortly  after  the 
luncheon  hour,  when  I  judged  that  I  should  have  at  least 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  which  to  effect  the  exchange. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  a  gardien  appeared  at  the  end  of 
the  gallery  while  I  was  at  work,  but  knowing  me  so  well 
now  as  the  copier  of  the  masterpiece  he  turned  away. 

"The  rest  was  easy.  I  packed  up  my  easel,  left  it  in 
the  usual  way,  and  came  away  with  the  masterpiece 
under  my  coat.  Had  I  been  challenged  in  any  way  I 
should,  of  course,  have  said  that  the  picture  I  was  tak- 
ing away  was  my  finished  work. 

"I  took  the  masterpiece  to  my  studio.  Then  for 
some  weeks  I  remained  practically  a  prisoner,  only  going 
out  occasionally  at  night,  waiting  for  my  beard  and  hair 
to  grow  again. 

"My  only  companion  was  La  Dovloureuse.  Messieurs, 
I  gloated  over  that  masterpiece.  I  thought  of  its  won- 
derful history;  of  the  great  artist  who  had  painted  it 
centuries  ago,  of  the  Kings  who  had  intrigued  for  it. 
And  yet,  though  I  had  the  most  precious,  the  most  valu- 
able painting  in  all  the  world  in  my  humble  studio,  I 
was  not  happy.  On  the  contrary  I  was  extremely 
miserable. 

"There  was  little  fear  of  discovery.  Yet  all  the 
same  I  trembled  at  every  footstep  on  the  stairs.  The 
time  came  when  I  felt  that  I  must  get  rid  of  La 
Douloureuse  at  all  costs.  But  how?  I  had  not  the 
courage  to  try  to  put  it  back.  I  felt  that  this  time  I 


"LA  DOULOUREUSE"  75 

should  certainly  have  been  discovered.  I  should  have 
been  laughed  at  if  I  had  told  the  truth,  and  no  doubt 
imprisoned  for  many  years  for  trying  to  steal  my  own 
copy.  I  should  not  so  much  have  minded  the  imprison- 
ment, but  the  irony,  Messieurs,  would  have  killed  me. 

"Originally  I  had  the  vague  idea  that  after  I  had 
feasted  myself  in  leisurely  contemplation  of  the  master- 
piece I  might  sell  it  for  an  immense  sum.  But  now, 
how  to  find  a  purchaser?  There  was  the  extreme 
danger  of  approaching  anybody  on  such  a  matter.  And 
apart  from  that,  who  would  believe  that  I  really  pos- 
sessed the  masterpiece  ? 

"There  came  one  occasion,  indeed,  when  I  thought  I 
was  in  touch  with  a  purchaser.  It  was  in  a  night  cafe 
at  Montmartre,  where  I  had  gone  as  distraction  from 
the  nightmare  that  hung  over  me.  There  was  a  man 
there,  an  American  the  waiter  told  me,  who  was  spend- 
ing money  so  fast  I  felt  sure  he  must  be  a  millionaire. 
Feeling  desperate — I  was  also  extremely  short  of  money 
at  this  time — I  approached  him.  With  much  difficulty 
I  made  him  understand  of  what  it  was  that  I  spoke.  At 
last  he  told  me  he  had  never  heard  of  the  picture. 
Never  heard  of  La  Douloureuse!  I  left  him  in  anger. 
I  -would  not  have  sold  the  picture  to  such  a  man  for  the 
Bank  of  France.  And  as  it  proved  he  was  not  a  mil- 
lionaire, for  he  could  not  settle  his  bill. 

"So  my  life  for  the  past  six  months  has  gone  on — 
more  wretched  and  more  desperate  with  every  day.  But 
I  have  not  told  you  the  most  singular  and  terrible  thing 
of  all.  You  know  the  mocking,  melancholy  smile  of  the 
masterpiece — the  world,  with  the  exception  of  that 
American,  knows  it.  There  came  a  time  when  it  seemed 
meant  only  for  me,  that  evil  smile.  She  seemed  to  be 
mocking  at  my  misery,  to  be  rejoicing  in  my  terrible 
dilemma.  At  last  I  came  to  hate  that  woman  with  all 


76    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

my  being,  to  loathe  her  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I 
restrained  myself  from  destroying  her.  In  the  end  I 
hid  her  away.  I  have  not  seen  La  Douloureuse  for 
months. 

"I  drank  more  and  more  of  this."  He  pointed  to  the 
absinthe.  "You  know  what  that  means.  I  have  often 
thought  of  suicide,  and  leaving  a  letter  to  the  nation  to 
explain.  Then  no  doubt  I  should  have  been  believed. 
Two  days  ago  I  saw  the  startling  announcement  in  La 
Lumiere.  You  can  imagine  my  amazement.  I  was 
confounded.  You  said  that  the  picture  had  been  sold 
in  America.  That  puzzled  me,  but  I  thought  perhaps 
it  might  have  been  written  purposely  for  some  reason 
I  am  ignorant  of.  I  thought  over  the  matter  for  two 
whole  days,  until  I  felt  my  reason  would  go.  How  had 
my  secret  been  divined?  Did  the  police  suspect  me? 
At  last  I  could  support  it  no  longer.  I  came  here  this 
morning.  Now  you  know  all." 

He  leaned  back  and  closed  his  eyes  apparently  ex- 
hausted. There  was  silence  in  the  room.  At  last 
Lemaire  spoke  again  in  a  tired  voice: 

"I  have  told  you  everything.  Now  one  question. 
How  did  you  find  out  that  La  Douloureuse  had  been 
stolen?" 

"I  am  sorry,  my  friend,  but  it  is  impossible  to  tell  you 
that  yet,"  said  Antoine. 

"But  do  tihe  police  know?     Am  I  suspected?" 

"The  police  know  nothing.  We  four  are  the  only 
people  in  the  world  who  know  how  La  Douloureuse  was 
stolen.  But  tell  me,  where  is  the  picture  now?" 

"It  is  still  in  my  studlio.  I  throw  myself  on  your 
mercy.  I  am  not  a  criminal.  I  stole  that  picture — 
why  I  don't  know.  My  only  desire  for  long  past  has 
been  to  get  rid  of  it.  Can  you  extricate  me  from  this 
terrible  dilemma?" 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  77 

"At  least  I  can  promise  you  this :  we  will  do  our  very 
best,"  said  Antoine. 

The  telephone  on  Bourdot's  desk  tinkled.  Antoine 
picked  up  the  receiver. 

"Who  is  that?"  asked  a  voice. 

"C'est  moi,  Antoine  Poiret." 

"Ah!  This  is  Durand  speaking.  I  thought  I  had 
better  ring  up  and  tell  you.  There  is  a  detective  from 
the  Surete  watching  the  office  door.  He  is  in  a  taxicab 
just  opposite  the  Boulevard  entrance." 

"Tonnerre!     Who  is  it — Sauvage?" 

"No,  his  right-hand  man,  Pince." 

"A  sinister  name,"  said  Antoine.  "Come  in,  and  pre- 
tend you  have  seen  nothing." 


VII 


ANTOINE'S  face  showed  that  he  had  news.  There  was 
a  sensation  when  he  imparted  it. 

"Then  they  have  seen  me  come  here — they  suspect  me 
already,"  cried  Lemaire,  his  face  working  with  fright. 

"No,  it  is  not  that."  Antoine  detailed  the  visit  paid 
by  Sauvage.  "He  -was  very  amused  when  he  departed, 
but  -he  has  taken  all  precautions,  the  rascal.  It  is  me 
he  is  having  watched,  and  tihe  office  generally,  of  course. 
Everybody  connected  with  this  place  is  for  the  time 
being  under  suspicion." 

"What's  to  be  done?"  cried  Bourdot.  Even  Morissot 
looked  anxious. 

Antoine  stroked  his  beard  for  a  moment. 

"What  I  propose  is  this.  Lemaire  must  be  shielded 
at  all  costs.  So  far  he  is  in  no  way  suspected  in  con- 
nection with  the  affair.  As  for  us,  nobody  really  thinks 
we  have  had  anything  to  do  with  stealing  the  master- 


78        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

piece.  We  are  merely  suspected  of  knowing  who  did. 
Now,  thanks  to  M.  Lemaire,  we  do  know.  We  also 
know  where  the  picture  is.  We  must  so  arrange  that, 
if  we  find  the  picture  and  deliver  it  intact,  no  questions 
will  be  asked." 

"But  how?     How  are  we  to  manage  the  police?" 

"Binot-Varillon.  There  is  our  trump  card.  If  he 
is  properly  nursed  I  think  we  may  save  the  situation. 
.  .  .  But  I  think  I  hear  Durand."  He  unlocked  the 
door  and  went  into  his  own  room. 

Durand  had  just  entered. 

"The  picture  is  still  there,  with  a  big  crowd  round  it, 
all  discussing  feverishly  whether  it  is  the  original  or 
not,"  he  reported. 

"But,  about  this  detective,  Pince,"  said  Antoine. 
"Does  he  know  you,  and  what  you  do  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have  met  him  several  times.  That  was  why  I 
telephoned  first,  so  that  I  could  let  you  know  before  I 
came  into  the  office." 

"Excellent,  my  young  friend.  Listen!  Your  wish 
is  gratified.  You  shall  be  in  the  great  mystery.  In 
there  I  have  a  stranger.  He  wears  a  soft  felt  hat — 
not  at  all  like  the  nice  new  one  you  have  on — a  faded 
velveteen  jacket,  and  a  flowing  tie.  You  are  going  to 
make  up  a  parcel  of  just  about  the  size  of  the  picture 
you  have  just  seen  at  the  Louvre.  Pince,  who  has  seen 
you  come  in  as  you  always  are,  will  see  you  go  out  in  a 
sort  of  disguise,  carrying  a  parcel  of  an  intriguing 
size.  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  lead  Monsieur  Pince  a 
dance.  Don't  spare  him.  Act  as  suspiciously  as  you 
can.  Tenez!  call  in  at  one  of  the  big  hotels,  any  one, 
and  ask  if  Monsieur  Smitt,  or  some  such  name,  the 
famous  American  millionaire,  has  arrived.  That  will 
make  him  think.  But  wait,  that  is  not  all.  ..." 

Antoine  went  into  the  inner  room  where  the  three 


"LA  DOULOUREUSE"  79 

were  still  sitting.  He  outlined  the  situation,  begged 
the  painter  to  divest  himself  of  hat,  coat  and  tie,  and 
returned  with  the  garments  to  Durand. 

"Here  are  the  things  to  put  on.  You  can  make  up 
the  parcel  yourself.  Make  it  look  important — plenty 
of  cord  and  sealing  wax.  You  will  keep  Prnce  as  busy 
as  you  can,  and  as  long  as  you  can.  And  if  you  have 
anything  to  report,  ring  up." 

"C'est  compris!"  said  Durand  simply.  He  looked  at 
the  hat  of  the  painter  with  a  little  expression  of  distaste, 
and  then  bravely  put  it  on,  following  it  with  the  vel- 
veteen coat  and  flowing  artist's  tie. 

"Splendid,"  said  Antoine,  picking  up  the  clothes 
Durand  had  discarded.  "Your  trousers  are  a  little  too 
respectable,  but  if  you  rub  that  perfect  shine  off  your 
boots  you  will  do.  And  now,  my  young  friend,  the 
parcel.  Let  me  know  when  it  is  prepared  and  you  are 
ready  to  depart." 

Antoine  returned  to  his  friends  and  handed  Durand's 
garments  to  Lemaire. 

"Would  you  be  good  enough  to  put  these  on?"  he 
said.  "It  is  well  that  for  a  time  you  should  not  look 
like  a  painter."  He  lit  a  cigarette  and  waited  while 
Lemaire  made  the  change. 

A  few  minutes  later  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 
Antoine  went  out  and  found  Durand  ready  with  an 
imposing  parcel. 

"It  will  do.  Now  en  avant!  I  will  watch  at  the 
window  to  see  if  Pince  follows." 

He  saw  Durand  arrive  on  the  pavement,  look  quickly 
up  and  down  the  boulevard  in  a  cautious  manner,  and 
walk  away.  A  head  popped  out  of  the  window  of  a 
taxicab  opposite,  and  looked  after  Durand.  Then  the 
owner  of  it  jumped  out,  spoke  rapidly  to  the  driver, 
who  nodded  several  times,  and  followed  after  Durand. 


80    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"So,"  said  Antoine  softly.  "There  is  still  the 
chauffeur." 

He  returned  to  the  other  room,  and  gave  an  outline 
of  what  he  had  done. 

"It  sounds  very  complicated,"  said  Bourdot  mourn- 
fully. "Let's  hope  it  will  work  out  all  right.  And 
now  what  do  we  do  ?" 

x 

"Now  we  lunch,"  said  Antoine.  "You,  Morissot,  take 
M.  Lemaire  round  to  La  Bonne  Biere.  Bourdot  and  I 
will  follow  after,  separately.  The  chauffeur  shall  have 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  leading  members  of  the 

staff  of  La  Lumiere." 

*  «  *  *  *  * 

Over  luncheon  Antoine  elaborated  his  plan  of 
campaign. 

"You,  Bourdot,  I  want  you  to  get  in  touch  with 
Binot-Varillon  so  that  at  any  time  this  evening  we  shall 
be  able  to  telephone  him  and  get  him  at  a  moment's 
notice.  And  you,  Morissot?" 

"I  have  a  very  important  political  article  to  write 
to-day,"  he  answered. 

"The  Government?" 

"You  have  said  it." 

"Ah,  the  poor  Government !  .  .  .  Well,  gentlemen, 
on  going  out  of  here  we  will  chat  for  a  few  moments  in 
a  light-hearted  way  and  then  go  off  in  various  direc- 
tions. I  think  our  chief  spy  is  shaken  off,  but  we  will 
take  no  chances.  I  shall  go  to  Lemaire's  for  the  picture 
myself,  but  shall  wait  until  it  is  dark.  You,  Lemaire, 
I  suggest,  should  go  home  and  wait  there  with  a  tran- 
quil mind  until  I  come  to  your  studio  this  evening,  be- 
tween eight-thirty  and  nine  o'clock.  I  shall  take  a 
promenade  in  the  Champs  Elysees — simply  that — and 
think  over  the  situation.  We  all  meet  in  the  office  be- 
tween nine  and  ten  to-night.  And  then — we  shall  see. 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  81 

VIII 

[As  Pince  followed  Durand  along  the  boulevard  he  kept 
his  eyes  open  in  more  directions  than  one.  Hunter  and 
hunted  had  been  walking  along  for  some  ten  minutes 
when,  at  the  corner  of  the  Place  de  1'Opera  the  detec- 
tive made  a  signal  to  a  well-built  man,  also  in  dark 
clothes  and  a  bowler  hat,  who  was  apparently  standing 
there  aimlessly.  This  individual  came  up  to  and 
greeted  Pince  casually,  and  they  walked  along  together 
for  a  few  hundred  yards,  Pince  talking  rapidly  all  the 
time.  Then  he  abruptly  turned  on  his  heel,  and  walked 
briskly  back  towards  the  offices  of  La  Lumiere,  leaving 
the  other  man  to  follow  Durand. 

Arrived  again  at  the  office  he  had  a  short  conversation 
with  the  driver  of  the  taxicab,  and  immediately  went  to 
the  nearest  telephone  and  held  counsel  with  Inspector 
Sauvage,  telling  him  what  had  happened. 

"This  Durand  may  be  a  blind,"  said  the  Inspector, 
"and  on  the  other  hand  he  may  not.  Anyhow,  you  have 
a  good  man  following  him.  Pasquier  will  see  how  much 
there  is  in  him.  But  the  fact  that  they  sent  a  man  out 
with  a  parcel  at  all  makes  me  more  suspicious  than  ever. 
I  think  we  shall  find  our  affair  in  the  offices  of  La 
Lumiere.  The  point  is  to  concentrate  on  this  man 
"Poiret.  He  is  the  key  to  the  situation."  And  the 
Inspector  described  him  carefully. 

"Good,"  said  Pince.  "He  is  having  lunch  with  the 
others  in  a  little  cafe  near  the  office  now.  I  will  see 
that  he  does  not  get  out  of  my  sight." 

Pince  next  made  for  the  quiet  street  in  which  the 
Cafe  de  la  Bonne  Biere  was  situated.  He  noticed  with 
satisfaction  that  there  was  a  little  wine  bar  immediately 
opposite,  and  there,  ordering  a  drink,  he  took  up  his 
[watcih. 


82        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 


AT  about  half-past  eight  Antoine  descended  from  a 
taxicab  in  the  Rue  de  la  Mome,  Montmartre,  entered  the 
dark  doorway  of  No.  17,  and  without  bothering  to 
salute  the  concierge  mounted  a  dingy  flight  of  stairs  up 
to  the  fifth  floor.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  and  in  a 
few  moments  it  was  opened  by  Lemaire. 

"Ah,  how  good  it  is  to  see  you,"  exclaimed  the 
painter.  "It  has  not  been  gay  here  alone  with  my 
thoughts.  Is  everything  all  right?'* 

"I  think  so.  I  have  watched  most  carefully  all  day, 
but  I  feel  sure  I  have  not  been  sthadowed.  But  there 
was  a  curious  message  from  Durand  during  the  after- 
noon, all  the  same.  He  said  that  he  was  being  followed 
about  not  by  Pince  but  by  another  man  who  took  his 
place.  Perhaps  it  only  means  that  Pince  grew  tired 
of  the  affair  and  deputed  the  work  to  another." 

"Let  us  hope  so,"  said  the  painter.  But  his  mouth 
twitched  nervously. 

"Now,  the  picture!"  said  Antoine.  Their  talk  had 
taken  place  in  a  small  outer  hall,  innocent  of  furniture 
or  decoration.  Lemaire  now  pushed  open  a  door  and 
led  Antoine  into  a  very  large  room  with  a  big  skylight. 
An  easel  and  a  few  plaster  casts  showed  that  it  was  the 
place  where  the  painter  worked.  A  bed  in  a  corner  sug- 
gested that  it  was  the  place  where  he  also  slept. 

An  oil  lamp  and  two  candles  lit  the  room  faintly. 
Lemaire  locked  the  door  behind  them  and  then  going  to 
his  bed  lifted  up  the  mattress.  From  this  he  took  a 
flat  parcel  about  two  feet  square  wrapped  in  oilcloth. 
He  took  off  the  outer  wrapper,  then  several  inner  wrap- 
pings of  soft  paper  and  suddenly  held  out  the  picture 
to  Antoine. 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  S3 

"Bigre !"  exclaimed  Antoine. 

He  felt  a  certain  emotion  in  taking  it.  This  was  the 
most  famous,  the  most  valuable  picture  in  the  world. 
There  were  men  who,  were  they  offered  the  privilege  by 
the  Government  of  France,  would  gladly  give  millions 
for  it.  And  yet,  tucked  away  here  under  Lemaire's 
mattress  it  was  valueless,  a  mere  square  of  painted  wood. 
And  so  it  might  'have  lain  for  years  but  for  Antoine's 
freakish  decision  to  give  Paris  a  spurious  sensation. 

"That  is  La  Douloureuse!"  said  Lemaire.  His  voice 
quavered  with  emotion.  "And  God  only  knows  how 
glad  I  shall  be  to  rid  myself  of  her." 

Antoine  looked  at  the  melancholy  face,  bearing  the 
mocking  enigmatical  smile  which  for  centuries  had  been 
the  admiration  and  despair  of  poets  and  painters  with- 
out number. 

"It  seems  a  wicked  face  to  me — the  face  of  a  she- 
devil,"  he  said.  "Brrrrh !  I  could  not  live  with  it  for 
a  week.  My  poor  Lemaire,  what  your  life  here  must 
have  been,  alone  with  her  and  your  secret !  Wrap  her 
up  again  and  we  will  go." 

Lemaire  obeyed.  He  had  just  finished  when  there 
came  a  loud  knock  on  the  outer  door.  The  two  men 
started  and  looked  at  each  other.  Lemaire  was  as  pale 
as  death.  Like  a  flash  he  darted  to  'his  bed  and  hid  the 
picture  away  again. 

Antoine's  heart  beat  fast  in  the  silence  that  followed. 
Had  the  police  then  been  following  him  after  all?  He 
had  doubled  all  round  Paris  during  the  day,  and  only 
communicated  with  the  office  by  telephone. 

There  came  the  faint  sound  of  a  voice  from  the  outer 
door.  Raising  a  warning  finger  to  the  scared  painter 
Antoine  silently  opened  the  first  door  and  listened. 

Again  came  the  voice  wheezily  through  the  keyhole : 

"C'est  moi,  Durand.      Open  quickly." 


84,        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Antoine  darted  forward  but  stopped  with  his  hand  on 
the  outer  door.  Durand!  How  should  he  be  here? 
And  that  did  not  sound  like  his  voice.  He  bent  down 
and  peeped  through  the  keyhole.  In  the  dim  light  of 
the  landing  he  could  just  see  the  edge  of  a  burly  figure. 
It  was  Inspector  Sauvage! 

Trapped!  Antoine's  brain  reeled  with  the  shock. 
This  was  a  pretty  end  to  the  greatest  journalistic  sen- 
sation of  the  century. 

He  staggered  back  into  the  studio,  closing  the  door 
behind  him.  Lemaire  there  met  him  with  a  gaze  of 
horror. 

"What  is  it  ?"  he  gasped.     "Not  the  police !" 

Antoine  nodded. 

"Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu!"  groaned  the  unhappy 
painter,  <and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  His  legs 
shook.  He  seemed  about  to  collapse.  Antoine  grasped 
him  by  the  shoulders  and  shook  him. 

"No  noise !"  lie  hissed  m  a  tense  whisper.  "All  may 
not  be  lost.  By  the  law  of  France  they  cannot  force 
an  entry  until  daylight.  Pull  yourself  together.  We 
are  not  beaten  yet." 

There  came  another  knock  at  the  door.  It  sounded 
like  the  crack  of  doom,  and  Antoine  shook  at  the  sound 
of  it.  An  inspiration  came  to  him.  He  went  to  the 
keyhole. 

"Listen,  Durand,"  he  said.  "The  article  is  not  writ- 
ten yet.  He  is  busy  on  it  now  and  must  not  be  dis- 
turbed. Come  back  in  an  hour." 

"Bien,"  came  the  voice,  and  there  was  the  sound  of 
footsteps  on  the  stairs. 

Antoine  went  back  to  the  studio  to  find  Lemaire 
stretched  out  on  the  bed,  his  face  still  in  his  hands, 
groaning  softly  like  an  injured  man.  As  Antoine 
looked  at  him  he  felt  utterly  hopeless.  His  world 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  85 

seemed  to  be  tumbling  about  him.  This  was  the  end  of 
La  Lumiere — as  far  as  he  was  concerned.  Bourdot  and 
Morissot  were  right,  then.  He  ought  not  to  have  gone 
so  far.  And  yet  he  had  so  nearly  succeeded ! 

A  sudden  rage  came  over  him  at  the  sight  of  the 
unnerved  man  on  the  bed.  He  sprang  towards  him  and 
shook  him  again — savagely  this  time. 

"Stop  that  noise,  imbecile !"  he  hissed.  "Get  up,  and 
let  us  see  if  there  is  possibly  a  way  out  of  this.  We 
have  hours  ahead  of  us  before  the  police  can  come  in." 

Lemaire  stood  up,  reeling  like  a  drunken  man. 
Antoine  noticed  a  green  bottle,  with  water  and  a  glass, 
standing  on  a  small  table  near  the  bed.  He  mixed  an 
absinthe,  added  some  sugar  and  brought  it  to  the 
painter. 

"Here,  drink  this.  It  is  bad  stuff,  but  it  may  do  you 
good  now." 

Lemaire  gulped  it  down. 

"Merci!"  he  said  huskily.  "Some  air.  It  is  close." 
He  walked  to  the  window  and  opened  it.  Then  on  the 
instant  he  jumped  back  into  the  room,  a  look  of  wild 
hope  and  excitement  on  his  face. 

"That  light  over  there,  you  see  it,"  he  whispered 
hoarsely.  "It  is  a  studio  like  this.  A  friend  of  mine, 
Godard,  occupies  it.  Outside  this  window  there  is  a 
broad  ledge  running  right  round  to  his  studio.  His 
staircase  opens  on  to  another  street.  If  we  can  get 
there  we  may  be  saved.  But  we  must  be  careful.  It 
is  a  terrible  drop  down  to  the  courtyard.  Shall  we 
risk  it?" 

"Shall  we  risk  it !"  cried  Antoine  happily.  He  made 
a  dive  for  the  bed  and  seized  the  picture  again.  "Now 
then !  Softly  as  possible.  We  must  go  on  our 
stomachs.  They  may  be  watching  from  below.  Your 
friend  Godard  will  have  the  surprise  of  his  life." 


86    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

X 

BOURDOT  sat  gloomily  at  his  desk.  There  had  been  a 
great  society  function  which  he  had  missed,  and  he  was 
now  trying  to  describe  the  brilliant  scene  without  hav- 
ing been  there. 

Morissot  wandered  into  his  room,  smoking  a  cigarette 
and  frowning. 

"You  look  glum,"  said  Bourdot. 

"I  feel  it,"  returned  the  other.  "And  you — tell  me. 
How  do  you  like  the  look  of  things  ?" 

"Not  at  all.  The  fact  is,  mon  cher,  he  is  going  to 
land  us  in  a  pretty  mess. 

Morissot  nodded. 

"Half-past  nine,  and  no  'iews,"  Bourdot  cried. 
"What  do  we  announce  for  to-morrow?  I  wonder  if 
the  police  have  got  him.  And  Durand!  He  has  not 
turned  up.  Perhaps  they've  got  him  too.  Ah,  quelle 
affaire!"  He  threw  -out  his  arms  with  a  gesture  of 
despair.  "If  he  fails  in  this  it  will  kill  the  paper.  But 
once  he  gets  an  idea  in  his  head  there  is  no  restraining 
him.  Think  of  his  mad  flight  to  Monte  Carlo !  But 
this!  We  have  been  fools!  Juggling  with  the  na- 
tional treasures.  ...  ." 

The  telephone  tinkled.     Bourdot  took  up  the  receiver. 

"Who  is  it?"  came  a  hoarse  and  urgent  voice. 

"C'est  moi,  Bourdot." 

"This  is  Antoine.  All  goes  well.  We  have  the  pic- 
ture and  we  have  dodged  Sauvage  and  Company.  But 
the  office  is  still  watched.  We  cannot  get  in.  You 
must  make  a  diversion  before  the  doorway.  Go  up  to 
the  Boulevards.  Collect  the  first  camelot  you  can,  no 
matter  what  he  does — an  acrobat,  anything.  Give  him 
twenty  francs  to  do  a  performance  before  the  door- 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  87 

way — no  matter  what,  so  long  as  he  shouts  and  collects 
a  crowd.  We  will  slip  in  behind  the  people.  Quick !" 

"But  impossible,"  protested  Bourdot.  "I  can't  do  a 
think  like  that." 

"But,  mon  ami,  it  is  urgent,  vital!"  came  Antoine's 
voice,  vibrating  with  intensity.  "Everything  crumbles 
if  we  do  not  do  this.  Quick,  mon  ami!  Think  of  the 
paper!" 

Bourdot  dropped  tlhe  receiver  with  a  groan,  explained 
the  situation  in  a  few  frenzied  and  incoherent  words  to 
Morissot,  put  on  his  hat  and  rushed  out.  He  had  the 
presence  of  mind  to  go  slowly  at  first  so  as  not  to  excite 
suspicion.  But  well  clear  of  the  office  he  walked  along 
at  feverish  speed,  his  eyes  searching  from  side  to  side 
in  search  of  someone  who  would  get  Antoine  out  of  his 
dilemma,  his  breast  raging  at  the  undignified  nature  of 
the  task  thrust  upon  him. 

Just  near  a  well-lighted  cafe  he  caught  sight  of  a 
disreputable  young  man  he  knew  well  by  sight.  This 
individual  made  a  precarious  living  by  standing  before 
the  various  cafes  and — with  the  aid  of  a  piece  of  felt 
which  he  twisted  into  the  likeness  of  all  sorts  of  head- 
gear— giving  imitations  of  various  celebrities,  from 
Napoleon  downwards,  to  the  accompaniment  of  surpris- 
ing facial  contortions  and  a  ceaseless  flow  of  "boni- 
ment,"  or  nonsense.  Bourdot  pounced  on  the  young 
man. 

"Say  then,  would  you  like  to  earn  twenty  francs?" 

The  young  man  made  a  horrible  grimace : 

"What  do  you  think!" 

Bourdot  hurriedly  explained  what  he  wanted. 

"But  the  police,"  objected  the  young  man. 

"Peste!"  exclaimed  Bourdot.  "You  dodge  them 
twenty  times  a  night — and  for  a  few  odd  sous.  There 
is  twenty  francs  for  this.  Here  is  ten  on  account.  You 


88    THE  ADVENTURES  OP  ANTOINE 

shall  collect  the  rest  to-morrow  when  I  see  you  have  done 
your  job  well." 

"It's  a  bargain,"  said  the  imitator  of  Napoleon. 

"Follow  me  at  a  short  distance.  A  few  moments 
after  I  have  entered  my  office  you  begin  with  the  boni- 
ment."  And  he  walked  back  to  the  office,  turning 
round  from  time  to  time  to  see  that  the  young  man  was 
following. 

Once  inside  the  doorway  he  bounded  up  the  stairs, 
rushed  to  his  room  and  opened  the  window.  The  voice 
of  the  young  man  arose  on  the  instant,  loud  and  raucous, 
rattling  off  the  boniment  he  had  recited  ten  thousand 
times.  The  two  men  inside  the  office  peeped  through  the 
window.  A  few  passers-by  were  collecting  down  below. 
The  crowd  grew  slowly.  Suddenly  a  policeman  ap- 
peared from  round  the  corner  of  the  side  street,  and 
clapped  his  heavy  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder. 
The  imitator  of  Napoleon  gave  a  startled  yelp,  dodged 
active  as  a  cat,  and  fled.  People  came  running  from  all 
directions,  crowding  round  the  policeman.  In  a  moment 
the  pavement  was  impassable. 

"That  ought  to  do  it,"  said  Bourdot. 

There  was  a  noise  in  the  outer  office  and  Antoine  burst 
in,  hatless,  disheveled,  his  hands  black  with  the  crawl 
round  the  roof,  a  parcel  under  his  arm.  Behind  him 
was  Lemaire,  a  wild  look  in  his  eyes. 

"Splendid,  Bourdot,"  gasped  Antoine.  "You  see 
this  parcel.  It  is  La  Douloureuse!"  And  he  sank  into 
a  chair. 

"To  the  devil  with  La  Douloureuse!"  cried  Bourdot 
savagely.  "What  fantastic  thing  do  we  do  next?" 

"Binot-Varillon !    Where  is  he?    You  have  got  him  ?" 

"Not  in  my  pocket.  But  I  found  out  that  he  will  be 
at  home  all  the  evening." 

"Then  telephone  him,  my  good  Bourdot.      Say,  if  he 


"LA   DOULOUREUSE"  89 

will  be  good  enough  to  come  here,  we  think  we  shall  be 
able  to  let  him  have  some  news — some  news  from  London 
say.  But  only  on  condition  that  he  comes  at  once,  and 
without  saying  a  word  to  the  police.  Get  that  assur- 
ance from  him  first.  We  will  go  and  wash.  Allons, 
Lemaire." 

XI 

BY  the  time  the  Minister  of  Fine  Arts  was  announced 
Antoine  felt  a  new  man.  Some  cold  meat  and  salad 
with  a  bottle  of  good  wine  from  the  cafe  and  a  good 
cigar,  which  he  was  now  puffing,  had  helped  in  the  trans- 
formation. He  received  the  Minister  with  unruffled 
mien  and  a  smiling  countenance. 

M.  Binot-Varillon  bowed  to  the  three  Directors  as  he 
had  done  before. 

"You  have  news,  Messieurs,"  he  said. 

"We  hope  so,"  said  Antoine  pleasantly.  He  picked 
up  a  telegraph  form  from  the  table.  "We  have  heard; 
from  London.  We  think  it  possible  that  the  master- 
piece may  'shortly  be  returned  to  its  proper  place.  But 
there  are  conditions." 

"And  what  are  they?" 

"That  from  this  moment  all  action  on  the  part  of  the 
police  must  cease.  A  certain  high  personage  is  con- 
cerned. I  will  be  frank  with  you.  It  is  a  case  of 
kleptomania  on  the  part  of  a  person  of  international 
importance.  The  scandal,  if  the  truth  came  out,  would 
be  amazing.  The  terms  conveyed  to  us  in  this  cipher 
telegram  are  that  if  we  can  obtain  a  promise  that  the 
real  facts  are  suppressed,  the  picture  will  be  returned 
intact." 

The  Minister  of  Fine  Arts  frowned  and  seemed  to  be 
thinking  hard. 


90        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"You  ask  me  to  tamper  with  the  laws  of  France,"  he 
said  at  last.  "I  cannot  undertake  to  do  any  sueh 
thing." 

"Is  it  not  a  fact,  Monsieur  le  Ministre,  that  in  inter- 
national affairs  the  law  is  not  always  regarded  quite  so 
scrupulously?"  said  Antoine  winningly. 

M.  Binot-Varillon  permitted  himself  to  smile. 

"A  word  in  your  ear,"  said  Antoine  mysteriously. 
He  bent  forward  and  whispered  the  name  of  an  eminent 
British  Cabinet  Minister. 

The  Minister  of  Fine  Arts  opened  his  eyes  with 
amazement. 

"Mon  Dieu,  is  it  possible!  Then  when  you  said 
America  in  your  original  article  you  really  meant 
London?" 

Antoine  nodded. 

"I  could  see  the  Minister  of  Justice,  of  course.  It  is 
possible  that  something  could  be  arranged."  The 
Minister  of  Fine  Arts  pondered.  "But  then,  there  is 
something  much  more  difficult — the  public.  They 
know  the  picture  has  been  stolen.  It  is  the  talk  of  all 
Paris — of  all  France.  What  are  they  to  be  told?" 

"That  is  the  second  condition  I  desire  to  put  before 
you,"  said  Antoine  suavely.  "The  public  can  be  told 
something — and  we  desire  that  La  Lumlere  shall  be  the 
medium  through  which  it  hears.  We  can  easily  fabri- 
cate a  story  which  will  appear  plausible  enough.  I 
have  already  thought  of  an  idea.  We  can  say  that  a 
poor  devil  of  an  artist,  half  demented  by  absinthe,  was 
seduced  by  the  "wonderful  picture,  made  a  copy  of  it, 
stole  the  original,  and  lived  with  the  treasure,  until  his 
mind  gave  way  under  the  strain  of  the  secret.  We  can 
describe  the  astuteness  of  the  Ministry  of  Fine  Arts  and 
the  police  in  tracking  him  down — and  say  that  this  poor 
beggar  is  under  medical  oare,  and  that  with  the  best 


91 

attention  he  may  yet  possibly  recover.  It  may  not  be 
the  truth — but  Paris  will  believe  it.  And  there  will  not 
be  the  same  censure  for  the  Ministry  of  Fine  Arts  as 
would  have  been  the  case  had  it  been  a  mere  robbery  for 
the  sake  of  a  great  sum  of  money.  Paris  will  say  'Poor 
devil' — and  let  it  go  at  that." 

,  "It  is  extremely  irregular,"  sighed  M.  Binot-Varillon, 
"but  it  is  a  possible  way  out.  I  will  see  what  can  be 
done.  Something  indeed  must  be  'done!  My  life  this 
last  two  days  has  been  a  most  unenviable  one." 

"And  we  have  your  assurance — first  that  this  con- 
versation is  for  the  present  a  secret  between  ourselves, 
and  secondly  that  you  will  see  to  it  we  are  no  longer 
troubled  by  the  police.  After  all,  we  are  merely  agents, 
trying  to  do  our  best  for  France  and  you." 

"The  first  I  promise.  As  to  the  second — I  think  I 
can  promise  it.  And  I  will  go  off  to  the  Prefecture  at 
once." 

"My  friends,"  said  Antoine  when  the  door  had  closed 
behind  the  unhappy  Minister,  "there  is  a  greater  in  this 
world  than  even  Inspector  Sauvage — and  that  is  the 
Prefect  of  Police." 

"Mon  cher  Antoine,"  exclaimed  Bourdot,  his  voice 
husky  with  emotion.  "In  your  greater  moments  you 
have,  vraiment,  a  touch  of  genius." 

"Mon  cher  ami,"  said  Morissot  solemnly.  And  each 
taking  a  hand  of  the  senior  Director  shook  it  solemnly. 

"I  think  all  will  be  well,"  said  Antoine  modestly. 
"And  this  poor  Lemaire  ...  we  must  keep  an  eye 
on  him.  ...  I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  the  poor  devil. 
Do  you  know  what  he  whispered  to  me  when  we  were 
crawling  along  that  roof?  'Mon  Dieu,  I've  forgotten 
Durand's  hat!'" 


92        THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

XII 

THE  publication  four  days  later  of  the  full  story  of  the 
theft  and  recovery  of  La  Douloureuse  was  a  stunning 
blow  for  the  rest  of  journalistic  Paris.  For  La 
Lumiere  it  was  a  triumph  of  the  first  magnitude.  The 
story  of  the  demented  artist  who  stole  the  most  valuable 
picture  in  existence  reverberated  not  only  throughout 
Prance  but  all  over  the  civilized  world. 

But  there  was  an  interesting  little  scene  in  the  offices 
of  La  Lumiere  to  which  no  publicity  was  given. 

The  three  Directors,  immaculate  and  impressive,  stood 
on  one  side  of  Antoine's  long  table.  On  the  other  side 
stood  the  Minister  of  Fine  Arts,  the  Prefect  of  Police, 
a  number  of  minor  officials — and  Inspector  Sauvage. 

The  great  masterpiece,  Antoine  said,  had  arrived  from 
London  overnight  in  the  hands  of  a  trusty  messenger. 
With  a  fine  gesture  he  turned  to  the  safe  behind  him, 
opened  it  and  took  out  the  precious  panel,  handing  it  to 
M.  Binot-Varillon.  Amidst  great  excitement  it  was 
examined  and  an  expert  from  the  Louvre  pronounced  it 
to  be  the  veritable  masterpiece  known  as  La  Douloureuse. 
The  Minister  of  Fine  Arts,  a  prey  to  considerable 
emotion,  made  a  little  speech  suitable  to  the  occasion, 
saying  that  France  owed  a  great  deal  to  La  Lumiere, 
and  its  directors.  Then,  with  many  bows,  congratula- 
tions and  handshakes  the  group  broke  up. 

The  last  to  leave  was  Inspector  Sauvage.  As  he 
reached  the  door  he  turned  round,  looked  Antoine  in  the 
eyes,  put  a  finger  to  his  nose  with  a  most  expressive 
gesture  and  solemnly  winked. 

There  was  a  considerable  fuss  in  political  circles  but 
that  was  only  to  be  expected.  Shortly  afterwards 
M.  Binot-Varillon  resigned  his  office.  And  at  about  the 
Bame  time  there  appeared  in  Antoine's  buttonhole  the 
narrow;  red  ribbon  of  a  most  highly  prized  decoration. 


CHAPTER  III 


THE   KING   OP   PAEIS 


MONSIEUR  AUGUSTE  MORISSOT,  Political  Director  of 
La  Lumiere,  was  sitting  in  his  office  late  one  evening 
writing  a  furious  attack  on  the  reigning  Government. 

"Never  in  the  history  of  the  Third  Republic  has  such 
a  spiritless,  invertebrate  gang  of  nondescripts  ..." 
he  had  begun — when  suddenly  the  electric  light  went  out. 

"Peste!"  he  exclaimed.     "Who  has  done  that?" 

He  waited  in  the  darkness,  expecting  momentarily 
that  the  light  would  come  on  again.  But  the  darkness 
continued.  Furious,  he  rang  his  bell.  Then,  looking 
through  the  window,  he  noticed  that  the  lights  on  the 
Boulevard  were  also  extinguished.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment there  were  sounds  of  running  feet  in  the  corridors 
of  the  office,  and  a  cry  went  up  for  candles. 

"Ten  thousand  devils !"  growled  Morissot.  "It  must 
be  that  scoundrel  of  a  Merlou  again.  What  a  country !" 
Biting,  scathing  sentences  revolved  in  has  brain,  but  he 
could  not  put  them  down  to  the  account  of  the  Govern- 
ment as  he  was  still  in  darkness. 

In  a  few  moments  faint  lights  twinkled  here  and  there. 
On  the  terrace  of  the  big  cafe  opposite,  Morissot  could 
see  waiters  running  about,  with  candles,  stuck  hurriedly 
into  the  necks  of  bottles. 

Morissot  waited  impatiently,  beating  a  tattoo  on  the 

93 


94    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

desk  with  his  fingers.  But  he  remained  in  darkness. 
"A  moi — candles!"  he  roared.  But  still  nobody  came 
to  his  rescue. 

"Ah,  but  this  is  insupportable !"  he  cried,  and  dashing 
out  into  the  passage,  burst  into  the  room  of  Antoine. 

The  Business  Director  of  the  journal  was  sitting  at 
his  desk  reading  something  by  the  light  of  a  solitary 
candle.  He  looked  up  at  Morissot's  furious  entrance. 

"Here  am  I  in  the  midst  of  a  most  important 
article — and  the  lights  go  out !"  cried  the  man  of  poli- 
tics. "It  is  a  scandal!" 

"It's  that  cochon  Merlou  again,"  said  Antoine.  "He 
has  been  quiet  for  a  little  while,  but  evidently  he  is  at  it 
again.  Candles  have  been  sent  for." 

"But  consider,  man  Ami,"  cried  Morissot.  "My  train 
of  thought  is  interrupted.  My  argument  has  gone  out 
of  my  head.  And  all  because  of  a  pestilential  labor 
leader  who  turns  out  the  lights  of  Paris  whenever  he 
feels  like  it,  and  then  sits  and  laughs  at  us.  Ciel.  I 
could  slioot  him !" 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Antoine. 

"But  What  a  Government!"  fumed  Morissot,  and  re- 
turned to  his  room. 

Candles  arrived,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  office  was  at 
work  again.  An  hour  later  the  lights  came  on  once 
more.  With  their  advent  Bourdot  arrived  in  the  office. 
He  was  laboring  under  great  excitement  and  indignation. 

"Consider,"  he  announced.  "A  gala  performance  at 
the  Opera!  The^King  and  Queen  of  Bulmania  are 
there,  the  President  too  and  the  elite  of  Paris.  And 
suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  'Thais*  the  lights  go  out. 
There  was  nearly  a  panic.  The  place  was  emptied  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  and  danger.  Women  were  faint- 
ing. There  were  riots  in  the  cloak-rooms.  It  was 
grotesque!  When  is  this  man  going  to  be  suppressed?" 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  95 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,"  said  Antoine. 
Bourdot  also  retired  to  do  his   writing.       He  left 
Antoine  thinking  very  hard. 


II 


THE  tyranny  of  Merlou  'had  grown  -with  success.  Start- 
ing modestly  with  a  little  affair  in  a  factory  on  the 
outskirts  of  Paris,  Merlou  had  won  handsomely,  and 
obtained  a  raise  of  wages  on  the  spot  for  the  electricians 
who  had  come  out  on  strike  at  his  bidding.  His  am- 
bition and  daring  had  grown  by  leaps  and  bounds.  And 
now  he  liad  done  the  most  audacious  thing  of  all — 
plunged  Paris  into  darkness  on  a  night  when  a  foreign 
Monarch  and  his  Queen  were  being  entertained  at  a  gala 
performance  at  the  Opera  by  the  President  of  the 
Republic. 

At  first  Paris  liad  taken  the  Merlou  adventures  in 
good  part.  Once  the  first  shock  was  over  it  had  become 
rather  good  fun  to  finish  dinner  by  candlelight.  The 
restaurants  and  cafes  began  to  accumulate  a  stock  of 
lamps  and  candles,  and  the  moment  the  electric  current 
failed  the  waiters  dashed  about  with  twinkling  lights 
stuck  in  bottles,  and  the  customers  laughed  and  joked 
as  they  sipped  their  coffee.  This  Merlou  was  an  amus- 
ing rogue,  and  the  Boulevards  had  a  certain  charm  by 
candlelight — so  it  had  become  the  fashion  to  say. 

But  this  latest  escapade  was  different.  An  honored 
guest  of  the  nation  had  been  insulted.  And  there  were 
whispers  that  the  King  of  Bui-mania  had  been  very 
much  upset.  Semi-autocratic  monarchs  of  troublous 
little  States  do  not  like  to  be  suddenly  plunged  into 
darkness.  The  night  holds  terrors  for  the  wearers  of 
some  crowns.  And  in  the  Presidential  box  the  King's 


96    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

imilibary  attache  had  been  kept  busy  striking  matches 
while  the  President  of  the  French  Republic,  consumed 
by  anger  and  mortification,  assured  his  royal  guest  that 
the  contretemps  was  merely  due  to  the  machinations  of 
a  certain  individual  called  Merlou. 

"If  Merlou  lived  in  Bulmania  he  would  suddenly  dis- 
appear," the  King  was  reported  to  have  said. 

Of  all  the  articles  on  the  incident  which  appeared  in 
the  press  of  the  capital  next  morning  none  was  so  bitter 
and  so  scathing  as  Morissot's  in  La  Lumiere.  He 
flayed  the  Government  alive,  and  then  danced  on  its 
tender  corpse. 

Since  that  little  affair  of  La  Douloureuse  the  paper 
had  become  quite  a  power  in  Paris.  Morissot  had 
powerful  politicians  in  his  pocket;  Bourdot  wielded 
great  influence  in  the  most  select  social  circles ;  Antoine 
found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  concern  which  increased 
in  importance  with  every  month  that  passed. 

Antoine  believed  in  himself.  His  success  in  the  affair 
of  "La  Douloureuse,"  and  the  happy  results  that  fol- 
lowed from  it,  had  given  him  a  calm  confidence  in  what- 
ever he  undertook.  He  had  been  lucky,  no  doubt.  But 
then  if  one  is  lucky  why  not  take  every  advantage  of  it  ? 
His  thoughts  now  turned  to  Merlou.  It  would  be  an 
admirable  thing  to  wipe  out  this  pestilential  syndicalist. 
And  if  it  could  be  done  by  ridicule — how  Paris  would 
enjoy  the  fun! 

He  called  in  Durand  to  consult  him. 

"What  do  you  know  about  Merlou?"  he  said; 

"Not  a  great  deal,"  replied  the  crime  investigator. 
"But  his  followers  >swear  by  him.  He  has  a  jolly  way 
with  him,  and  so  far  he  has  always  been  successful. 
Many  of  them  are  delighted  at  the  fright  he  gave  to  the 
King  of  Bulmania.  .  .  >.  Apart  from  that  he  loves 
a  good  dinner,  has  a  keen  eye  for  the  ladies — there  are 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  97 

stories  of  amorous  adventures — and  is  fond  of  the  good 
things  of  life  generally.  He  enjoys  a  good  laugh  and 
loves  to  be  called  the  King  of  Paris." 

"What  is  he  after?" 

"Money." 

"Ah!  Listen,  Durand.  You  must  cultivate  this 
Merlou.  I  have  a  plan.  I  wish  to  depose  the  King  of 
Paris.  Leave  everything  else,  and  stick  to  him.  You 
can  begin  now." 

"Entendu!"  said  Durand,  and  went  out,  delighted 
with  his  mission.  Left  to  himself  Antoine  tugged  his 
little  beard  thoughtfully.  Money  and  a  gay  life! 
.These  ought  to  be  vulnerable  points  of  attack  in  the 
man  who  not  only  preached  industrial  revolution,  but 
practiced  it  on  every  possible  occasion. 

It  was  intolerable  that  such  an  individual  should  have 
Paris  at  his  mercy  at  any  moment  he  wished.  At  a 
moment  when  a  visiting  King  and  Queen  were  being 
isoothed  by  the  agitated  President,  and  panic  was  hover- 
ing in  the  vast  dark  auditorium  of  the  Opera,  Merlou 
was  sitting  in  a  little  cafe  not  a  hundred  yards  away, 
surrounded  by  half  a  dozen  of  his  cronies,  toasting  the 
coming  Revolution  in  excellent  red  wine,  and  playing 
cards  by  the  light  of  a  plentiful  supply  of  candles 
thoughtfully  provided  in  advance.  So  much  Paris 
knew  next  day,  and  it  made  the  good  bourgeois  foam  at 
the  mouth.  This  was  going  much  beyond  a  joke. 

So  far  Authority  had  seemed  powerless.  It  was 
feared  indeed  in  the  highest  circles,  that  there  was  a 
good  deal  more  behind  Merlou' s  bonhomie  and  audacity 
than  most  people  imagined.  There  'had  been  sullen 
mutterings  in  the  labor  world  for  a  long  time  past.  The 
General  Strike  was  being  preached,  and  Merlou  was 
'only  one  of  many  in  the  movement,  and  though  the  best 
known  to  the  public  was  not  necessarily  the  most  power- 


98    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

fill.  It  was  all  very  well  for  Morissot  and  his  kind  to 
rage  and  fume,  but  Authority  did  not  quite  yet  know 
where  to  tread.  Merlou  ordered  and  his  men  followed. 
The  consequences  of  sitting  'heavily  on  Merlou  at  this 
stage  might  be  very  serious. 

But  Antoine  did  not  reason  like  this.  His  weapons 
were  not  to  be  armed  force,  but  something  much  more 
subtle.  He  had  marked  down  his  prey,  and  hoped  that 
it  might  be  bad  for  Merlou  and  good  for  Paris  and 
La  Lumiere.  And  -what  more  congenial  task  could  be 
undertaken  by  a  newspaper  which  was  known  to  the 
world  as  "The  Light"  than  the  overthrowing  of  a  man 
who  was  constantly  plunging  his  kind  into  darkness? 

Ill 

DUBAND,  charged  with  his  high  mission,  walked  blithely 
along  the  Boulevard.  This  was  the  sort  of  thing  he 
delighted  in.  A  shocking  murder  at  La  Villette,  inter- 
views with  the  concierge  and  the  lady  next  door,  a  de- 
scription of  the  room  where  the  tragedy  took  place — 
that  sort  of  thing  was  all  very  well  in  its  way.  But  this 
was  quite  different.  It  needed  talents  of  no  mean 
order — diplomacy,  tact  und  savoir  faire — and  Durand 
flattered  'himself  he  had  these. 

And  now  how  to  begin.  He  had  read  all  the  morning 
papers  very  carefully.  The  scene  of  Merlou  sitting  in 
Lis  favorite  cafe,  chuckling  while  Paris  groped  in  the 
darkness,  came  into  his  mind.  That  might  be  an  excel- 
lent place  to  begin.  It  was  lunch  time.  He  would  go 
there. 

The  Cafe-Restaurant  3e  1'Escalier  Tournant  lay  in 
a  quiet  side  street  just  off  the  busy  Rue  de  Lafayette. 
It  was  a  modest  but  clean  and  tidy  establishment,  and 
Durand  as  he  pushed  open  the  door  found  about  a  dozen 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  99 

people  there,  eating  lunch  with  that  keen  enjoyment  and 
strict  attention  to  the  business  in  hand  which  is  so  uni- 
versal and  striking  a  feature  of  Paris  at  the  midday 
hour.  He  sat  down  at  a  vacant  table,  and  gave  his 
order  to  one  of  the  two  waiters. 

Durand  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  well  open.  Madame, 
placid  and  expressionless  as  the  Sphinx,  sat  at  the  cash 
desk,  handing  out  checks  to  the  waiters,  pouring  out 
aperitifs  and  liqueurs,  keeping  an  unwinking  eye  on  the 
machinery  of  an  establishment  which  to  her  was  all  that 
mattered  in  the  world.  A  portly  man,  with  curled 
black  moustaches,  appeared  behind  the  counter  and  ex- 
changed a  brief  word  with  Madame.  The  proprietor. 
He  might  be  well  worth  cultivating,  decided  Durand. 

Now  and  again  from  the  various  people  lunching  he 
caught  snatches  of  conversation  referring  -to  the  affair 
of  the  night  before,  and  Merlou's  name  was  generally 
greeted  with  a  laugh,  although  occasionally  came  an 
expression  of  indignation  at  the  idea  of  what  might 
have  happened  at  the  Opera. 

The  door  opened  and  a  woman  came  in.  She  looked 
round  at  the  now  crowded  room,  hesitated,  and  finally 
came  up  to  Durand's  table,  at  which  he  was  sitting 
alone. 

"Vous  permettez,  Monsieur?"  she  said. 

"But  certainly,  Madame." 

She  sat  down  with  a  smile  of  thanks.  She  was  a 
handsome  woman,  in  the  very  early  thirties,  with  dark, 
fierce  eyes.  Durand  was  not  long  in  noticing  that  she 
seemed  very  much  on  the  alert,  as  if  expecting  or 
hoping  to  see  someone  she  was  in  search  of,  and  every 
time  the  door  opened  to  let  in  a  newcomer  she  turned 
sharply  round.  There  was  an  air  of  suppressed  excite- 
ment about  her  which  suggested  that  the  meeting 
might  be  a  stormy  one.  Durand  became  interested. 


100      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

A  chance  encounter  with  the  cruet,  and  conversa- 
tion was  opened.  The  incidents  of  the  night  before 
were  mentioned. 

"He  is  an  extraordinary  man,  this  Merlou,"  said 
Durand. 

"Extraordinary!  He  is  more  than  that.  He  is  a 
rogue,  Monsieur."  The  vehemence  of  her  tones  was 
not  lost  on  him. 

"You  know  him  possibly,  this  King  of  Paris?" 

"Know  him!  Alas!  I  know  ham  only  too  well." 
Her  eyes  flashed.  "I  am  one  of  his  victims,  Monsieur. 
His  path  is  strewn  with  many.  I  am  one  of  the  latest. 
I  was  told  that  he  might  be  here  to-day.  It  is  to  see 
him,  if  possible,  that  I  have  come." 

Durand's  heart  bounded. 

"Then  I  gather,"  he  insinuated,  "that — if  I  dare  to 
say  so — in  spite  of  Madame's  undoubted  charms,  he 
will  not  be  too  pleased  to  see  you." 

She  laughed  grimly,  and  Durand  decided  that  she 
was  not  a  woman  to  be  crossed  lightly. 

"Ma  foi,  non!  He  will  not  be  at  all  pleased  to  see 
me.  Listen,  Monsieur.  You  are  sympathetic.  I 
should  like  to  tell  you.  My  name  is  Eugenie  Vigneau. 
I  am  a  widow.  A  few  months  ago  I  met  this  traitor 
Merlou.  He  padd  instant  court  to  me — oh,  but  he  was 
a  fluent  rascal !  I  am  a  woman,  Monsieur.  Que  voulez 
vous?  We  are  to  be  married.  I  was  to  abandon  the 
little  dressmaker's  business  which  I  had.  He  told  me 
of  his  schemes — oh,  but  he  can  talk  dazzingly !  He  was 
to  be  one  of  the  leaders  in  a  new  world.  It  was  he,  and 
such  men  as  he,  who  would  have  power  and  wealth. 
My  head  was  turned.  He  painted  to  me  the  great 
place  I  should  occupy  with  him.  I  should  be  Queen 
of  Paris,  he  said.  And  then — one  day  I  discovered 
that  he  had  a  wife,  a  weak,  timid  creature  he  had 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  101 

abandoned  long  ago!  I  taxed  him  with  it,  and  he 
denied  it.  But  he  never  came  again,  and  he  went  away 
owing  me  three  thousand  francs,  which  he  had  bor- 
rowed -to  finance  his  wonderful  schemes.  I  waited  a 
week,  expecting  to  see  him  every  day,  hoping  that  after 
all  I  had  not  been  deceived.  I  called  at  the  little  hotel 
where  he  had  been  living.  He  had  left.  Then  I  knew 
that  indeed  he  was  a  rogue.  When  the  lights  went 
out  last  night  I  knew  that  he  was  active  again.  A 
friend  pointed  out  to  me  a  passage  in  a  newspaper 
which  said  that  he  frequented  this  cafe.  And  here  I 
am,  hoping  to  see  him. 

"There,  Monsieur,  I  have  told  you  everything.  I 
do  not  quite  know  why:  but  I  expect  you  to  respect 
my  confidence." 

"Indeed,  Madame,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  But 
what,  may  I  ask,  should  you  do  to  this  Merlou  if  you 
saw  him?" 

Her  firm  mouth  tightened  into  a  straight  line  and 
Tier  eyes  flashed  dangerously. 

"I  would  show  him,  Monsieur,  that  he  cannot  trifle 
with  a  woman  such  as  I.  I  should  box  his  ears  soundly 
in  public — the  more  people  the  better.  I  should  pull 
his  hair,  perhaps.  He  is  a  coward  at  heart,  this  King 
of  Paris — I  know  it.  I  remember  his  face  when  I 
taxed  him  with  the  truth.  The  smile,  the  joviality  all 
went.  He  trembled.  .  .  .  And  it  would  not  do,  Mon- 
sieur, for  this  tyrant  who  has  set  himself  up  above 
Paris  to  be  so  treated  in  public.  He  would  die 
instantly,  of  chagrin  and  ridicule." 

"True,  Madame,  I  am  sure  you  are  right."  Durand 
was  thinking  furiously,  staring  before  him.  As  he 
looked  the  door  opened,  and  a  well-built,  jovial,  florid 
man,  with  carefully  trimmed  moustache  and  beard,  and 
hair  that  curled  luxuriantly  from  beneath  a  wide  felt 


102       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

hat,  entered  the  cafe.  It  was  none  other  than  Merlon, 
and  he  looked  the  picture  of  happiness  and  self-satis- 
faction. Fascinated,  Durand  stared,  wondering  what 
•would  happen  next.  But  at  that  moment,  through  the 
mirrors  that  paneled  the  walls,  the  King  of  Paris 
caught  sight  of  Durand's  vis-a-vis.  Instantly  his  face 
changed.  The  smile  fell  from  it.  A  touch  of  pallor 
crept  into  the  healthy  cheeks,  and  there  was  alarm 
in  his  eye.  Abruptly  backing  out  again  he  closed  the 
door  and  was  gone. 

"But  what  is  it,  Monsieur?  You  look  startled." 
Durand's  new  acquaintance  turned  round  swiftly,  but 
too  late.  The  door  had  just  closed  again  on  the 
alarmed  Merlou. 

"Listen,  Madame.  If  I  tell  you  something  important, 
something  startling  even,  will  you  give  me  your  promise 
to  keep  calm?" 

"Assuredly.    But  what  is  it?" 

"And  you  promise  not  to  dash  away  at  once  from 
this  table,  and  leave  me  here?" 

"But,  Monsieur,  quickly !    What  can  it  be  ?" 

"A  few  moments  ago  I  looked  startled,  you  said.  I 
had  cause.  Merlou  came  in  at  the  door.  He  saw  you 
through  the  mirrors,  his  face  blanched,  and  he  fled. 
No,  do  not  jump  up!  He  is  far  away,  already,  prob- 
ably speeding  in  a  taxicab." 

"But,  Mon  Dieu,  Monsieur,  why  did  you  not  tell 
me?"  The  black  eyes  of  Eugenie  gleamed.  "I  came 
here  to  see  ham,  and  you  let  him  go.  It  is  wicked, 
cruel!" 

"Calm  yourself,  Madame,  I  pray.  I  did  it  for  the 
best.  I  have  a  better  idea  than  yours.  Your  revenge 
shall  be  even  more  complete  .  .  .  We  will  talk  it 
over  now.  Will  Madame  take  a  liqueur  with  her 
coffee?" 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  103 


IV 


ANTOINE  was  lavish  in  'his  praise  when  he  received  the 
report  of  his  lieutenant. 

"Epatant,  mon  bon  Durand,"  he  said,  "Here  we 
ih'ave  something  to  work  on.  This  colossus  has  feet  of 
clay — and  her  name  is  Eugenie.  No  doubt  there  are 
others,  but  I  think  she  will  serve  our  purpose.  What 
luck,  eh?  You  could  not  possibly  have  done  better." 

"She  was  very  annoyed  at  first,"  said  Durand,  who 
was  extremely  pleased  with  himself.  "But  I  soon 
brought  her  round  to  my  point  of  view.  And  now  she 
is  content  to  wait,  so  that  his  downfall  may  be  all  the 
greater.  You  have  a  plan?" 

"Yes  and  no.  Vaguely — I  see  something  coming. 
Have  no  fear.  We  shall  have  him,  in  good  time. 
There  is  no  great  hurry.  No  doubt  he  will  show  us 
the  way.  His  head  is  getting  larger  and  larger.  Per- 
haps he  will  do  something  foolish  soon.  Keep  an  eye 
on  him.  It  is  a  congenial  task — eh,  Durand?  Tenez! 
Try  one  of  these  cigars.  They  are  good." 

And  Durand  went  out  to  continue  his  mission,  the 
proudest  and  happiest  young  man  in  Paris. 

The  storm  in  the  Press  caused  by  Merlou's  impudent 
and  audacious  exploit  raged  for  a  few  days  and  then, 
as  is  the  way  with  these  things,  died  down.  The  King 
of  Bulmania  and  his  Queen  had  departed,  and  happily 
no  more  untoward  incidents  had  marked  their  visit. 
Merlou  relapsed  into  quietude,  and  the  affair  seemed 
to  be  over.  Paris  forgot  all  about  the  scene  at  the 
Opera,  and  was  deeply  interested  in  a  crime  of  love 
and  passion  which  had  just  occurred  in  the  fashionable 
quarter  of  the  Etoile. 

But  there  were  those  who  mistrusted  this  apparent 


104       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

calm,  and  indeed  seemed  to  hear  beneath  it  an  insistent 
and  sinister  rumble  of  impending  trouble.  Strikes, 
small  affairs,  but  straws  to  show  which  way  the  wind 
was  blowing,  were  breaking  out  all  over  Paris,  and  on 
the  slightest  pretexts.  The  bakers,  the  builders,  the 
chimney-sweeps,  the  railway  men — all  men  and  all 
trades,  even  the  barbers,  were  restive.  And  so  was  the 
Government. 

Morissot  knew  that. 

"I  tell  you,"  he  said  to  Antoine,  "they've  got  the 
jumps.  That  Merlou  business  frightened  them.  Sup- 
pose there  had  been  a  catastrophe  at  the  Opera!  I 
know  that  one  or  two  members  of  the  Cabinet  nearly 
resigned  because  Merlou  was  not  clapped  into  prison  at 
once.  But  the  majority  persuaded  them  to  stop  on. 
The  fat  rogue,  it  seems,  has  really  got  a  very  strong 
following  in  all  sections  of  the  labor  world,  and  the 
Government  were  afraid  of  what  might  happen  if  they 
dealt  with  him  too  strongly.  And  they  are  afraid  of 
making  him  too  important.  Mon  Dieu,  what  men! 
.  .  .  You  saw  my  article  this  morning?" 

"Did  I  not!" 

"You  thought  it  too  strong?" 

Antoine  laughed. 

"Mon  cher  Morissot,  we  hardly  expect  milk  and 
water  from  you." 

"Admirable!  Milk  and  water — cafe  au  lait.  There 
is  too  much  of  it  elsewhere,  eh?  We  want  strong  bev- 
erages. It  would  do  our  Cabinet  Ministers  good  to 
take  a  course  of  cognac  and  sulphuric  acid.  What  do 
you  say?" 

"But  why,  since  you  supply  it  for  them  every  morn- 
ing in  La  Lumiere?" 

"True!"   said  Morissot,  and  went   away  chuckling. 

He  came  back  a  moment  later. 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  105 

"This  man  Merlou,  I  propose  to  flay  him  in  to- 
morrow's paper,"  he  announced  simply. 

"No,  leave  him  alone,"  said  Antoine.  "I  agree  with 
the  Government  there.  Just  at  present  he  desires  noth- 
ing better.  You  would  be  playing  his  game.  Leave 
him  to  me.  I  have  other  plans  for  him." 

"As  you  wish.  I  can  find  something  else.  I  will  go 
and  listen  to  the  debate  at  the  Chamber  of  Deputies. 
There  will  be  material  enough  there,  Heaven  knows." 

And  Morissot  departed  to  look  for  political  scalps. 

Bourdot  also  had  his  little  word  to  say  on  the  aspect 
of  affairs. 

"Are  things  as  threatening  as  they  seem?"  he  asked. 

"I  hardly  know,"  said  Antoine.  "What  do  the 
Duchesses  think  of  it?" 

Bourdot  twirled  his  moustache.  He  liked  this  sort 
of  question. 

"Frankly,  there  is  some  apprehension.  I  was  talk- 
ing to  the  Marquise  de  St.  Colombe  only  yesterday. 
'My  dear  Bourdot,'  she  said,  'what  do  you  make  of 
the  situation?  Why  is  this  man  Merlou  not  trans- 
ported or  sent  to  the  guillotine?'  Her  ideas,  of  course, 
are  not  quite  ours.  She  lives  in  the  ancien  regime 
...  I  told  her  we  could  hardly  do  that  sort  of  thing 
nowadays.  'Ma  chere  Marquise,'  I  said,  'you  must 
understand  that  nowadays  the  working  classes'  .  .  .." 

The  telephone  bell  rang. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Antoine  .  .  .  "Ah,  is  that  you 
Durand?  Yes,  go  on  .  .  .  Good  .  .  .  Yes,  it  should 
be  interesting.  I  will  meet  you  there  to-night,  then, 
at  eleven  o'clock." 

"What  is  happening?"  asked  Bourdot.  "Another 
mad  escapade.  You  must  be  careful,  mon  cher  An- 
toine. That  ardent  temperament  of  yours  will  lead 


106       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

you  into  trouble  yet.  No  more  trials  of  strength  with 
the  police?" 

Antoine  laughed. 

"Not  this  time.  I  have  merely  set  Durand  on  to 
•watch  Merlou  these  last  few  days.  He  is  living  a  very 
gay  life,  it  seems.  I  think  it  will  be  interesting  to  see 
him  at  it."  ! 

V 

THE  Lapm  Saute  was  one  of  the  most  glittering,  most 
expensive  and  most  popular  of  the  Montmartre  night 
resorts.  When  Antoine  and  Durand  entered  it  shortly 
after  eleven  o'clock  the  cafe  was  already  well  filled,  and 
a  number  of  couples  were  dancing  in  the  center  of  the 
large  room  to  the  strains  from  a  red-coated  Tsigane 
orchestra. 

Antoine  secured  a  table  in  a  corner  from  which  the 
whole  of  the  room  could  be  seen,  and  ordered  cham- 
pagne. Champagne  was  "obligatoire"  at  the  Lapin 
Saute. 

"And  now  tell  me  all  about  this  mountebank,"  said 
Antoine.  "What  has  he  been  doing?" 

"Chiefly  lunching  well,  dining  well  and  smoking  ex- 
pensive cigars,"  said  Durand.  "But  something  big 
is  preparing.  I  managed  to  strike  up  an  acquaintance 
with  the  proprietor  of  the  cafe  where  I  met  Eugenie, 
and  he  tells  me  that  Merlou  is  always  in  the  best  of 
tempers  when  he  is  contemplating  a  coup.  He  had 
been  meeting  some  of  the  other  labor  leaders  to-day, 
»nd  will  bring  a  little  party  of  them  here  to-night." 

"Perhaps  it  is  to  fete  the  coming  revolution,"  said 
Antoine. 

The  room  filled  up,  and  the  smoke  from  cigars  and 
cigarettes  hung,  a  delicate  blue  mist,  in  the  air.  The 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  107 

orchestra  played  unceasingly,  the  dancers  swayed  to 
and  fro  in  languorous  movements  and  a  dropping  fire 
of  popping  champagne  corks  arose. 

It  was  just  after  midnight  when  a  large  and  hila- 
rious party  came  in  at  the  door.  At  the  head  of  them 
marched  Merlou.  Three  men  and  four  women  came 
behind  him.  They  were  shown  to  two  tables  evidently 
reserved  for  them. 

The  men  were  all  in  evening  dress.  Merlou  wore  his 
with  something  of  an  air,  but  his  companions  had  the 
awkward  look  of  men  so  dressed  for  the  first  time  in 
their  lives.  The  women  were  young,  good  looking  and 
extravagantly  dressed. 

Antoine  called  the  waiter,  indicated  the  new  arrivals 
and  asked  him  if  he  knew  who  the  ladies  were. 

"They  are  in  the  chorus  of  the  Folies  Bergere, 
Monsieur,"  was  the  reply.  "I  have  seen  them  here 
before — but  not  with  the  same  companions." 

Merlou's  party  <soon  proved  to  be  the  noisiest  in  the 
room.  Supper  was  laid  at  once,  with  a  plentiful 
supply  of  champagne.  There  were  frequent  peals  of 
laughter,  in  which  the  deep  tones  of  the  King  of  Paris 
rang  out  heartily.  He  was  obviously  the  life  and  soul 
of  the  party.  The  others  hung  on  his  words,  roared 
with  laughter  at  his  slightest  sallies,  and  generally 
made  him  the  hero  of  the  feast. 

The  waiters  distributed  colored  paper  rolls,  which, 
thrown  about  from  table  to  table,  hung  about  the 
room  in  festoons.  To  his  great  enjoyment  Merlou 
was  pelted  by  his  companions,  so  that  he  was  soon 
swathed  in  paper  ribbons  of  all  colors,  out  of  which 
his  jolly  face  emerged,  wreathed  in  smiles,  like  Bac- 
chus presiding  at  a  fete. 

"Do  you  notice  those  two  men  sitting  quietly  in 
that  far  corner — there  in  the  alcove,  where  the  light  is 


108       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

shaded,"  said  Antoine  suddenly.  "Do  you  recognize 
them?" 

Durand  looked. 

"It  cannot  be — but  yes,  it  is — Inspector  Sauvage  and 
friend  Fince.  Then  the  Police  are  on  their  track  too. 
We  may  see  developments." 

"I  think  not.  They  are  probably  merely  keeping 
an  eye  on  him,  just  as  we  are  ourselves." 

At  Merlou's  table  the  corks  had  been  popping  fre- 
quently. There  came  snatches  of  song  from  the  group. 
Merlou  raised  his  glass,  filled  with  champagne. 

"To  the  great  day,  mes  amis,"  he  said  in  a  loud 
voice.  There  was  a  chorus  of  acclamation  at  the  toast. 

Pushing  the  table  away  from  him,  Merlou  led  one 
of  his  companions  out  to  dance.  He  was  a  little  un- 
steady on  his  feet  and  looked  a  grotesque  figure  with 
the  festoons  hanging  about  him.  He  soon  showed 
that,  whatever  he  might  be  as  an  orator,  dancing  was 
not  one  of  his  strong  points.  He  careered  awkwardly 
around  the  rather  narrow  space  between  the  tables, 
dragging  his  partner  round  with  him.  The  Tsiganes 
were  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  and  encouraging  him 
with  cries  and  a  more  feverish  scraping  of  their  fiddles. 

It  was  too  furious  to  last.  Something  happened  to 
Merlou's  feet,  there  came  a  little  shriek  from  his 
partner,  she  dropped  on  her  knees  to  save  herself,  and 
the  next  instant  the  King  of  Paris  fell  sprawling 
across  a  table  which  overturned  with  a  crash,  the 
supper  with  which  it  was  laid  flying  in  all  directions. 

A  roar  of  laughter  went  round  the  big  room.  But 
an  elegant  gentleman  wearing  a  monocle  who  had  been 
sitting  at  the  table,  accompanied  by  a  charming  com- 
panion, was  furious.  One  of  the  dishes  on  the  table 
•had  been  lobster  salad,  and  this  had  scattered  over 
himself  and  the  lady  with  distressing  effect. 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  109 

"Imbecile!"  'hissed  the  elegant  gentleman  furiously. 
"What  right  have  you  to  come  into  a  place  like  this? 
You  ought  to  be  in  the  Zoological  Gardens,  you  pranc- 
ing elephant."  The  exquisite  looked  again  at  the  be- 
spattered clothes  of  his  companion,  and  his  eye  blazed. 

"Chameau!"  he  cried. 

The  vocabulary  of  the  Parisian  contains  no  greater 
insult  than  that  of  "camel."  It  had  a  certain  effect 
even  on  the  exhilarated  King  of  Paris,  who  was  still 
sitting  on  the  floor,  looking  up  at  the  ruin  he  had 
caused. 

"Camel  yourself!"  exclaimed  Merlou.  "Cannot  a 
man  enjoy  himself  without  being  insulted?  I  have 
merely  had  a  little  champagne  .  .  ." 

"You  have  not  had  enough,"  cried  the  elegant  gen- 
tleman, now  more  furious  than  ever.  He  picked  up  a 
bottle  that  was  still  half  filled  with  the  sparkling 
wine,  and  leaning  over  the  table  poured  it  carefully 
and  systematically  over  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the 
fallen  roysterer.  It  ran  down  through  his  luxuriant, 
curling  hair  and  made  a  horrid  mess  of  the  paper 
streamers  that  still  twined  round  his  ample  shirtfront. 

"Ten  thousand  devils!"  roared  the  King  of  Paris, 
hoarse  with  rage.  He  scrambled  to  his  feet  with  sur- 
prising agility,  full  of  fight.  But  suddenly  the  maltre 
d'hotel,  followed  by  a  group  of  waiters,  closed  in  be- 
tween the  two  belligerents.  A  mighty  hubbub  followed, 
in  which  many  of  the  spectators  joined.  Now  and 
again  the  voice  of  the  maltre  d'hotel  could  be  heard 
appealing  for  peace,  promising  that  the  clothes  of 
Madame  and  Monsieur  should  be  replaced,  appealing 
to  Merlou  to  go  away — promising  anything  rather 
than  have  a  free  fight  among  his  clients. 

Antodne  watched  the  scene  with  great  enjoyment. 

"Providence    could   not   possibly   have   arranged    it 


110       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

better,"  he  chuckled.  "Do  you  not  appreciate  the 
mingled  feelings  with  which  the  good  workmen  of  Paris 
will  read  of  this  incident — how  their  King  squanders 
their  money  on  champagne;  how  he  sits  calmly  on  the 
floor  while  a  member  of  the  hated  elegant  classes 
against  whom  he  is  always  declaiming  so  savagely 
pours  more  wine  all  over  him,  so  that  he  looks  like  a 
draggled  Pierrot  at  a  rainy  carnival?  It  comes  at  a 
most  opportune  moment  just  when  Merlou  and  his 
fellow-conspirators  are  plotting  something  big.  I 
have  a  title  ready  made  for  your  article  'Le  Rot 
s'Amuse.' ' 

"Perfect,"  said  Durand. 

The  uproar  still  went  on,  but  to  the  disappointment 
of  many  of  the  spectators  it  was  subsiding  a  little,  and 
there  seemed  less  chance  of  a  scuffle  between  the  two 
angry  men.  Gradually,  with  infinite  tact  and  patience, 
the  maitre  d'hotel  calmed  the  raging  tempest.  Bowing, 
smiling,  exerting  gentle  pressure  all  the  time,  he  man- 
aged to  get  Merlou  back  to  his  friends.  There  was 
another  discussion  there,  but  presently  the  whole  group 
got  up  to  leave.  They  went  slowly  to  the  door,  much 
quieter  and  graver  than  when  they  came  in. 

All  this  time  Inspector  Sauvage  and  Pince  had  not 
moved  from  their  coign  of  observation.  But  they  also 
now  got  up  to  leave. 

"I  think  we  will  go  too,"  said  Antoine.  "We  have 
seen  all  we  want  to." 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  to  the  street  they 
came  on  the  two  detectives.  They  were  watching  a 
group  standing  on  the  further  side  of  the  street,  from 
which  the  voice  of  Merlou  oame  in  loud  explanation. 

"Ah  good  evening,  Monsieur  Poiret,"  said  Inspector 
Sauvage.  "I  saw  you  sitting  there,  taking  a  keen 
interest  in  the  little  scene."  He  spoke  with  every  def- 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  111 

erence,  but  there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "And  by 
the  way,  are  we  antagonists  in  this  little  affair  also?" 
"Not  at  all,  Inspector,"  laughed  Antoine,  "but 
friendly  collaborators  I  hope,  working  for  the  good  of 
the  country.  But  I  leave  the  King  of  Paris  to  your 
tender  care.  We  have  seen  all  we  want  to  see  of  him — 
for  the  present." 

VI 

THE  article  describing  the  amusement  of  the  King  of 
Paris  appeared  at  an  even  more  opportune  moment 
than  Antoine  had  imagined.  For  on  the  day  it  was 
published  in  La  Lumiere  the  news  first  leaked  out  that 
Merlou  and  his  kind  had  at  last  decided  on  the  Gen- 
eral Strike. 

The  movement  was  to  be  complete  and  crushing. 
The  forms  of  law  and  order  were  to  be  set  at  naught, 
but  without  violence.  At  a  given  moment  everything 
was  simply  to  stop — the  railways,  the  builders,  the 
bakers,  the  electricians,  the  carters,  the  miners — and 
the  workers  were  to  sit  by  with  folded  arms  while  in- 
dustrial and  commercial  paralysis  descended  upon 
France.  It  was  to  be  a  passive  war,  organized  on  the 
greatest  scale  in  history. 

The  most  sinister  thing  behind  the  movement  was 
that  the  men's  leaders  had  little  to  quote  in  the  way 
of  grievances.  More  money  was  wanted,  true,  but  the 
main  idea  was  to  show  the  power  of  the  organized 
worker  over  all  other  classes. 

"Ours  is  a  war,"  Merlou  had  been  fond  of  declaim- 
ing in  his  speeches,  "of  the  cloth  cap  against  the  silk 
hat,  of  the  man  of  hard  hands  and  muscles  against  the 
pampered  bourgeois  who  ride  in  taxicabs  or  motor- 
cars; of  the  man  who  is  p-lad  to  get  his  thin  red  wine 


112       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

against  the  rich  bloodsuckers  who  wallow  in  champagne. 
It  is  the  day  of  the  worker,  and  the  end  of  the  man 
who  exploits  him." 

And  the  crowds  had  cheered  him  to  the  echo.  Merlou, 
standing  on  a  platform,  his  face  aflame  with  apparently 
righteous  anger  for  the  lot  of  the  workers,  his  bands 
waving  and  his  luxuriant  locks  tossing,  was  a  sight  to 
arouse  frantic  enthusiasm. 

And  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement  and  apprehen- 
sion caused  by  the  news  that  the  General  Strike  was  at 
last  coming  appeared  the  article  in  La  Lumiere  with 
the  ironical  heading  "Le  Roi  s' Amuse." 

The  story  of  Merlou's  carouse  in  a  Montmartre 
night  cafe  took  Paris  by  storm.  The  whole  of  the 
press  of  Paris  realized  for  once  that  it  was  not  a  time 
for  jealousy,  and  quoted  the  story  freely.  It  was 
telegraphed  all  over  France,  t*nd  to  countries  far  be- 
yond. The  picture  of  Merlou  sitting  on  the  floor, 
dripping  with  champagne,  entwined  in  damp  paper 
streamers  and  roaring  to  the  insult  of  chameau  was 
irresistible.  Durand  had  felt  that  this  was  the  big 
moment  of  his  life,  and  had  etched  in  the  scene  most 
cleverly.  Paris  was  one  huge  chuckle.  This  man  who 
had  declaimed  against  champagne  sitting  on  the  floor 
and  taking  a  bath  of  it  at  the  hands  of  one  of  those 
elegant  individuals  whose  pleasure  it  was  his  to  deride! 
What  a  precious  joke! 

Within  the  day  some  deservedly  unknown  poet  had 
written  a  song  Le  Roi  s'Amuse,  and  the  camelots, 
shouting  it  out  hoarsely,  were  hawking  it  all  over 
Paris.  The  incident  crept  into  the  music  hall  revues 
and  the  cafes  chantants.  The  comic  papers  hastened 
to  the  subject.  Before  the  week  was  out  the  story  of 
Merlou  and  the  champagne  was  a  precious  national 
possession. 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  113 

Congratulations  were  showered  on  La  Lumiere,  and 
joy  reigned  in  every  room.  Even  Morissot  was  seen  to 
be  indulging  in  grave  laughter.  And  he  it  was  who 
gave  Antoine  the  news  that  Government  circles  were 
delighted  with  La  Lumiere. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  that  has  happened  to  the  Cab- 
inet since  it  came  into  office,"  he  said.  "This  Premier 
is  a  hopeless  nincompoop,  but  I'll  say  this  for  him,  he 
knows  a  piece  of  good  luck  when  he  sees  it." 

Antoine  did  not  conceal  his  delight  at  the  great 
success  of  the  article. 

"It  will  hurt  Merlou,"  he  said.  "It  has  hurt  him 
already.  The  people  are  talking  loudly  about  evening 
dress  and  champagne.  Durand  has  been  hanging  about 
the  small  workmen's  cafes  and  wineshops,  and  he  has 
heard  a  good  deal  of  dissatisfaction  expressed.  But 
Merlou  is  still  strong.  This  incident  has  only  shaken 
him  badly.  He  has  yet  to  receive  his  coup-de-grace." 

"You  have  something  up  your  sleeve,  mon  ami." 

Antoine  tugged  at  his  little  beard. 

"We  shall  see.  But  I  will  let  you  know  in  good 
time." 

"I  leave  it  to  you,"  said  Morissot. 

Durand  during  this  time  paid  careful  attention  to 
the  Cafe  de  I'Escalier  Tournant.  In  a  casual  way  he 
had  become  quite  friendly  with  the  proprietor,  and 
had  even  made  some  little  progress  in  the  good  opinion 
of  Madame  because  of  the  lavish  way  in  which  he 
dined.  He  was  understood  to  be  a  young  man  "in  the 
commerce,"  and  Madame  had  privately  decided  that, 
for  one  who  had  a  marriageable  daughter  of  eighteen, 
he  might  perhaps  be  worth  closer  acquaintance. 

Durand  was  dining  there  one  evening  when  the  Pro- 
prietor came  up  to  him  importantly. 

"There  is  to  be  a  big  meeting  to-night,"  he  said — 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Merlou  and  all  the  rest  of  them.  They  are  coming 
at  nine." 

"What's  on?"  asked  Durand  carelessly. 

"Big  things — the  biggest.  A  special  meeting  about 
the  great  strike.  And  there  will  be  criticism  of  Merlou 
for  that  little  affair  in  a  Montmartre  night  cafe.  Ah! 
le  Rot  s* Amuse!  How  Paris  laughed,  hein!"  He 
dropped  his  voice.  "Even  my  wife,  and  she  docs  not 
often  laugh." 

Durand  felt  this  was  the  biggest  compliment  ever 
paid  him. 

"Will  there  be  many  here  to-night?" 

"Half  a  dozen — eight — ten,  perhaps  a  dozen.  All 
the  chief  men,  you  know.  They  prefer  to  drop  in  here 
casually,  and  talk  things  over  with  a  bottle  or  so  of 
wine,  instead  of  meeting  at  the  offices  of  the  Syndi- 
calist Federation.  It  attracts  less  attention.  And 
then  up  there,  at  the  offices,  the  police  have  their 
spies.  They  are  everywhere,  these  mouchards.  You 
ought  to  hear  what  Merlou  says  about  them.  A  jovial 
one  that,  eh?" 

Durand  let  his  host  rattle  on,  and  finished  his  dinner 
leisurely.  He  knew  exactly  where  to  get  in  communi- 
cation with  Antoine  at  any  hour.  "The  Patron" 
would  be  interested  to  hear  this  bit  of  news.  Perhaps 
he  would  decide  to  come  along  and  be  on  the  spot. 
Things  had  a  way  of  happening  when  Antoine  was 
about. 

"I  may  come  in  again  later  on,"  he  s<aid.  "It  would 
be  interesting,  perhaps,  to  be  near  when  a  meeting  of 
such  grave  import  is  taking  place.  Where  does  the 
(meeting  take  place?" 

"In  the  room  above  this — a  fine  room.  You  have 
never  seen  it?  They  go  up  the  spiral  staircase  there 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  115 

in  the  corner  and  once  upstairs  they  are  shut  off  from 
the  world — as  private  as  a  hermit  in  his  cave." 

A  few  minutes  later  Durand  went  out  and  made  for 
the  nearest  telephone. 


VII 


"TEN  minutes  past  nine,  and  our  friends  have  not 
arrived  yet,"  said  Antoine.  They  were  sitting  at  a 
table  near  the  spiral  staircase  which  gave  the  cafe  its 
name,  apparently  deeply  engrossed  in  a  game  of  chess. 

"Here  come  two  who  look  as  though  they  belong  to 
the  Merlou  family,"  said  Durand.  "Yes,  I  recognize 
the  tall  one  .  ..  ..  It  is  Martin  of  the  Builders'  Syndi- 
cate." 

The  two  newcomers  were  greeted  warmly  by  the 
Proprietor,  and  after  a  few  moments'  conversation 
passed  up  the  staircase.  At  short  intervals  four  other 
men  arrived.  Then  Merlou  himself  appeared,  as  full 
of  assurance  as  ever.  He  gave  a  quick  glance  round 
the  cafe,  which  contained  only  some  half  dozen  people, 
shook  the  Proprietor  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  fol- 
lowed the  others.  Two  more  went  the  same  way.  They 
were  the  last.  A  waiter  followed  them  with  bottles  of 
wine  and  glasses  on  a  tray. 

"Now  the  sitting  has  begun,"  said  Antoine.  "Our 
friends  are  deciding  what  is  to  be  the  fate  of  France." 

The  cafe  was  quiet,  and  the  low  lium  of  voices  from 
the  room  above  could  be  heard. 

Gradually  the  voices  grew  louder,  and  there  were 
dull  sounds  as  though  someone  was  thumping  the  table. 
As  the  waiter  opened  the  door  for  an  instant  to  pass 
through  the  voices  suddenly  swelled  out  into  an  angry 
roar. 


116       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"They  are  discussing  the  affair  of  Merlou  and  the 
champagne,"  said  Durand.  "He  seems  to  be  getting 
it  hot." 

Antoine  nobbed:  "It  is  tantalizing  not  to  be  up 
there.  I  wonder  if  anything  could  be  done  with  the 
waiter?" 

The  sounds  of  strife  now  came  louder,  from  the  room 
above,  and  the  people  in  the  cafe  raised  their  heads 
inquiringly. 

Suddenly  there  rang  out  the  "Bang,  bang!"  of  a 
pistol.  The  waiter  was  half-way  up  the  staircase  at 
the  moment,  -with  another  bottle  of  wine  on  a  tray.  It 
dropped  with  a  crash.  The  Proprietor  and  Madaime 
etared  from  behind  the  counter,  transfixed. 

"Come  on.    We  must  be  in  this"  said  Antoine. 

With  one  bound  he  was  on  the  staircase,  and  Durand 
after  him.  Half  way  up  the  waiter,  still  standing 
there,  tried  to  stop  him. 

"You  cannot  pass,  Monsieur.     It  is  private." 

"Nonsense.  Assassinations  cannot  be  conducted  in 
private.  Or  do  you  want  me  to  call  the  police?  Go 
first  then,  quick." 

The  waiter  went  up  none  too  gaily  and  pushed  open 
the  door.  Antoine  followed  him,  with  Durand  next  and 
the  proprietor  now  running  up  frantically  behind. 

Sitting  in  a  chair,  held  by  three  of  his  companions 
was  Merlou,  his  face  a  study  in  varying  expressions. 
Near  the  table  in  the  center  of  the  room  stood  the  rest 
of  the  delegates.  Antoine  could  see  no  sign  of  a  dead 
body. 

The  proprietor  stumbled  into  the  room. 

"Messieurs — what  does  this  mean,"  he  panted.  "Is 
anybody  killed?" 

"No — nobody  is  even  touched.  It  is  all  right,"  said 
one  of  the  group  soothingly.  "A  little  accident. 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  117 

Somebody  was  examining  a  pistol,  and  it  went  off  acci- 
dentally. It  is  nothing." 

"Are  you  sure  the  one  sitting  in  the  chair  is  not  in- 
jured?" insinuated  Antoine. 

"No,  he  certainly  is  not  hit,"  replied  with  emphasis 
the  man  who  had  already  spoken.  "He  was  the  one 
..."  He  suddenly  checked  himself.  "Monsieur  will 
pardon  me,  but  it  is  none  of  his  business." 

"It  is  the  business  of  every  good  Frenchman  to  in- 
terfere where  wrong  or  violence  is  being  done,"  said 
Antoine  with  a  fine  gesture.  "I  have  many  influential 
friends  in  administrative  circles,  but  I  speak  now  as  a 
simple  citizen,  bien  entendu." 

The  red  ribbon  in  his  buttonhole  lent  weight  and 
meaning  to  his  words.  The  man  looked  at  him  with  a 
new  interest. 

"Will  Monsieur  step  aside  a  moment  with  me.  I 
assure  you,"  he  went  on  in  an  earnest  undertone,  "that 
it  is  as  I  said.  We  were  assembled  here  to  discuss  a 
purely  business  matter.  A  certain  detail  cropped  up 
over  which  harsh  words  were  used.  One  of  us — the 
one  in  the  chair  to  be  exact — became  furious  at  the 
criticisms  leveled  at  him.  To  our  amazement  he  sud- 
denly jumped  up,  brandishing  a  pistol.  He  did  not 
point  it  at  anybody,  and  was  disarmed  by  several  of 
us  almost  immediately — but  not  before  the  pistol  had 
gone  off  twice.  You  may  see  the  'holes  there  in  the 
ceiling.  That  is  all — and  we  are  very  keenly  desirous 
that  there  should  be  no  scandal.  It  would  be  bad  for 
the  Proprietor  here,  who  is  a  good  soul." 

"Perfectly.  You  would  hate  to  have  the  police 
mixed  up  in  an  affair  of  this  kind."  Antoine's  eye  had 
been  roving  round  during  this  short  conversation.  The 
table  was  in  disorder  and  bottles  had  been  overturned. 
Near  at  hand  he  noticed  that  a  piece  of  paper  closely 


118       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

covered  with  writing,  the  ink  of  which  was  still  wet, 
lay  on  the  floor.  That  might  be  very  well  worth 
getting  hold  of. 

There  came  the  noise  of  footsteps  on  the  staircase 
outside.  Madame  appeared,  her  countenance  for  once 
shocked  out  of  its  usual  impassivity.  She  ran  to  her 
husband. 

"There  is  a  man  down  there,"  she  quavered.  "I 
think  he  is  a  detective — he  is  questioning  Jules — I  was 
standing  by  the  foot  of  the  staircase  and  ran  up — 
oh!"  And  she  sank  down  on  a  chair. 

The  news  cast  consternation  in  the  room.  It  in- 
creased when  a  heavy  foot  was  heard  on  the  staircase. 
There  was  a  sudden  rush  round  to  the  chair  in  which 
Merlou  still  sat,  and  hurried  whispers  were  exchanged. 
Antoine  bent  down  carelessly  and  picked  up  the  paper. 

A  moment  later  the  figure  of  Inspector  Sauvage  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway.  His  eyebrows  went  up  with 
surprise — and  some  annoyance — when  he  saw  Antoine. 

"You !" 

"Good  evening,  Inspector,"  said  Antoine  politely. 

The  man  with  whom  Antoine  had  previously  spoken 
came  forward  swiftly. 

"You  wish  to  speak  with  someone,"  he  said  to  the 
Inspector,  with  admirable  coolness. 

"I  am  an  Inspector  of  the  Sitrete,"  returned 
Sauvage  a  little  stiffly. 

"Ah,  perfectly.  There  is  no  need  for  your  presence 
here,  I  assure  you.  A  joke — .a  harmless  little  joke.  I 
will  explain  it.  But  first — you  seem  to  know  this  gen- 
tleman." He  pointed  to  Antoine.  "Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  tell  me  who  he  is?" 

The  Inspector  looked  at  Antoine  inquiringly.  An- 
toine shrugged  his  shoulders  carelessly. 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  119 

*'It  is  M.  Poiret,  Director  of  La  Lumiere"  said  the 
Inspector. 

"La  Luimere!"  cried  the  man.  "Sacrebleu!  La 
Lumiere!"  His  eyes  glared.  "And  I  told  'him  ;.  ,..  w 
Mon  Dieul" 

He  seemed  about  to  spring  on  Antoine. 

"You  told  me  very  little  indeed,"  said  Antoine  with 
a  bow.  "But  La  Lumiere  has  other  means  of  acquir- 
ing information  ..j  [..-..  I  bid  you  good  evening,  Mes- 
sieurs." 

He  backed  to  the  door,  and  Durand  followed  him. 
In  the  cafe  a  small  crowd  of  people  was  staring  up 
with  keen  curiosity.  At  the  door  they  found  Pince, 
iwho  also  looked  surprised  <and  saluted  them  rather 
coldly. 

They  hailed  a  passing  taxicab.  Inside  Antoine 
pulled  out  the  paper  and  by  the  aid  of  matches 
scanned  it  through. 

" What's  in  it?"  asked  Durand  with  excitement. 

"Nothing.  The  minutes  of  the  meeting,  Merlou's 
proposals  of  how  and  when  to  begin  the  General  Strike 
/.:  >  .  In  fact,  everything,"  concluded  Antoine  with  a 
chuckle. 


THE  new  blow  hit  Merlou  harder  than  the  first. 

"It  is  evident,"  said  La  Lumiere,  "that  the  King  of 
Paris  cannot  enter  a  cafe  without  making  himself  su- 
premely ridiculous.  In  one  he  blunders  into  a  bath 
of  champagne;  in  another  he  alarms  his  friends  and 
the  neighborhood  by  an  unexpected  and  maladroit  dis- 
play of  pistol  practice.  The  time  is  surely  not  far 
off  when  the  cafe  proprietors  of  Paris  will  unite  to 
keep  so  indelicate  a  customer  off  their  premises." 


120       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

In  the  same  spirit  of  banter  La  Lumiere  recounted 
the  scene  round  the  table — Antoine  and  Durand  had 
quite  enough  material  to  be  able  to  reconstruct  it — 
leading  up  to  the  quarrel  as  a  result  of  the  criticisms 
of  Merlou's  expensive  habits  in  night  cafes. 

But  just  as  interesting  to  Paris  was  Merlou's  sug- 
gested way  of  giving  the  signal  for  the  General  Strike. 
The  light  was  to  be  turned  off  in  the  evening,  and  with 
that  was  to  come  a  stoppage  of  everything  else — the 
railways,  the  tramways,  the  bakeries,  and  every  other 
activity  by  which  the  people  lived  arid  moved  and 
worked.  At  the  signal  of  the  King  of  Paris  the  capital 
and  the  whole  of  France  was  to  be  immobilized.  It  wa* 
a  grandiose  scheme,  worthy  of  a  King. 

Merlou's  name  was  heard  on  every  hand.  There  were 
demonstrations  in  the  streets  against  him,  and  some  in 
favor  of  him.  Rival  groups  came  into  collision,  the 
police  had  to  intervene  and  broke  heads  impartially 
on  both  sides. 

But  although  he  had  his  partisans,  public  opinion 
was  heavily  against  him.  A  howl  went  up  in  the  Press 
that  such  a  man  should  be  in  the  position  to  jeopardize 
the  life  of  Paris  and  France.  Morissot  was  not  alone 
in  flagellating  the  Government. 

The  Merlou  revelations,  it  was  soon  apparent,  had 
caused  disaffection  among  the  workers.  And  Antoine 
received  information  that  there  was  a  very  wide  split 
among  the  leaders,  and  that  half  of  them  at  least  in- 
sisted that  Merlou  should  be  dropped.  Excitement  was 
working  up  to  fever  heat. 

The  crisis  came  when  Blondin,  the  great  orator  and 
undisputed  leader  of  intellectual  Socialism,  lifted  his 
powerful  voice  against  Merlou. 

"The  man  Merlou  must  be  thrown  aside,"  he  wrote 
in  his  paper,  the  Internationale,  an  article  adorned  with 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  121 

gigantic  headlines.  .  .  .  "The  fight  for  right  and 
liberty  cannot  be  led  by  a  mountebank.  Merlou  is  a 
wine-bibber  and  a  farceur.  His  place  is  on  the  music- 
hall  stage,  and  not  in  the  forum.  Let  the  honest  pro- 
letariat of  Paris  beware  against  placing  their  trust  in 
such  a  man,  who  denounces  the  luxury  of  the  rich  and 
himself  squanders  the  money  of  the  workers  in  high 
living."  And  much. more  to  the  same  effect. 

But  Merlou  fought  best  with  his  back  to  the  wall. 
He  still  retained  his  faithful  followers,  and  he  was 
deternined  not  to  give  in  without  a  struggle.  It  was 
announced  that  there  would  be  a  monster  meeting  in 
the  great  Hippodrome  at  Montmartre,  and  that  Merlou 
would  address  the  workers  in  his  own  defense. 

"The  enemies  of  progress  have  risen  against  me," 
he  said,  in  a  high-sounding  proclamation  which  was 
distributed  amongst  the  members  of  the  syndicates. 
"Harmless  incidents  have  been  magnified  and  distorted 
by  the  paid  hirelings  of  the  well-fed  classes  who  are 
afraid  of  the  power  of  the  men  of  labor.  But  Merlou 
and  the  Right  will  prevail." 

The  next  day  a  very  interesting  piece  of  news  ap- 
peared in  La  Lumiere.  It  was  a  despatch  from  its 
Moscow  correspondent,  which  announced  that  Princess 
Alexandrovna  Poprikoff,  the  famous  Russian  Socialist 
and  revolutionary,  was  on  her  way  to  Paris  to  take  part 
,in  the  great  social  upheavals  which  were  threatening 
there. 

Some  interesting  biographical  details  were  con- 
tained in  the  despatch.  Princess  Alexandrovna 
Poprikoff,  it  was  explained,  was  the  beautiful  daughter 
of  a  Russian  prince  and  a  distant  connection  of  the 
Imperial  House  of  Romanoff.  In  spite  of  the  great 
name  and  the  luxury  to  which  she  had  been  born  she 
was  an  ardent  Socialist,  and  had  devoted  her  life  to  a 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

study  of  industrial  conditions.  Tihis  was  her  first 
visit  to  Paris,  and  La  Lumiere  hinted  that  the  presence 
of  such  a  powerful  sympathizer  at  such  a  time  in  Paris 
might  have  considerable  consequences  on  the  general 
situation. 


VIII 

THERE  was  a  feverish  touch  in  the  air  of  Paris  on  the 
night  of  Merlou's  great  stand  against  the  disaster  that 
threatened  him. 

All  the  streets  that  wind  up  the  hill  of  Montmartre 
were  thronged  with  people,  who  were  kept  constantly 
on  the  move  by  strong  bodies  of  police  with  their  in- 
sistent command  of  "Circulez!  Circtdez!" 

In  unexpected  corners,  too,  soldiers  were  drawn  up, 
their  rifles  piled  in  little  heaps.  And  up  and  down 
the  streets  rode  patrols  of  mounted  guards,  the  clatter 
of  their  horses'  hoofs  sounding  as  sweetest  music  to 
the  good  law-abiding  bourgeois,  who  feared  that  the 
forces  of  anarchy  were  about  to  break  loose. 

The  Government,  it  was  plain,  was  determined  to 
take  no  chances  and  was  ready  to  crush  instantly  any 
squabble  amongst  the  ranks  of  the  syndicalists  which 
might  threaten  to  burst  out  and  spread  to  Paris  itself. 

Here,  there  and  everywhere  amongst  the  police  and 
soldiers  was  to  be  seen  M.  Labiche,  the  famous  Prefect 
of  Police,  a  small  man,  insignificant  in  his  dark  over- 
coat and  bowler  hat,  but  with  his  fierce  eagle  eye  con- 
stantly on  the  alert  for  the  slightest  sign  of  trouble. 

In  a  taxicab  that  panted  up  the  steep  Rue  Blanche 
were  seated  Antoine,  Durand — and  the  Princess 
Alexandrovna  Poprikoff. 

"Police    and     soldiers     everywhere,"     said     Antoine 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  123 

gravely,  peering  through  the  window.  "It  looks 
thrilling.  .  .  .  Even  Morissot  would  have  to  'admit 
that  the  Government  is  awake  to-night." 

The  cab  stopped  and  the  door  was  opened  by  an 
agent  de  police. 

"You  cannot  go  any  further  in  this.  You  must 
walk,"  he  said. 

Antoine  produced  his  journalist's  police  pass; 
Durand  another.  The  policeman  noticed  the  red  ribbon 
in  Antoine's  buttonhole. 

"Bien,  Messieurs.  Pass  on.  As  far  -as  the  Place 
Pigalle.  You  must  get  out  there." 

A  few  minutes  later  they  found  it  was  impossible  to 
pass  any  further  and  had  to  leave  the  shelter  of  the 
cab.  Police  were  all  round  them. 

"Circulez!  Circulez!"  they  commanded,  as  soon  as 
the  three  were  in  the  roadway.  The  Princess,  a  com- 
manding figure  in  a  splendid  fur  coat,  took  Antoine's 
arm. 

All  was  confusion,  with  little  knots  of  scared  people 
running  here  and  there  to  get  out  of  the  center  of  dis- 
turbance. The  three  managed  to  gain  a  comparatively 
quiet  pavement,  behind  a  line  of  police. 

From  a  street  close  by  came  the  sound  of  hooting, 
and  loud  cries  of  anger.  The  police  began  to  look 
restive. 

"This  is  warming  up,"  said  Antoine. 

Suddenly  from  the  street  came  the  sharp  "rap-rap- 
rap"  of  an  automatic  pistol. 

"There's  Citizen  Browning  speaking,"  said  Durand. 
"Now  we  shall  see  something." 

A  body  of  cuirassiers  appeared  from  nowhere,  passed 
at  a  trot  and  charged  down  the  street.  Above  the 
alarming  rattle  of  hoofs  came  the  shouts  of  the 
frightened  crowd  running  away.  There  was  pande- 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

monium  for  a  few  moments,  a  few  more  shots  and  then 
quiet. 

At  that  moment  the  Prefect  of  Police  passed  close  to 
them.  Antoine  seized  the  opportunity,  recalled  their 
previous  meeting  in  the  affair  of  La  Douloureuse,  and 
asked  for  facilities  to  get  directly  to  the  place  of  the 
meeting. 

"By  all  means,"  said  the  Prefect  courteously,  and  in 
the  midst  of  his  preoccupations  called  up  a  sergeant  of 
police  to  accompany  them. 

The  sergeant  conducted  them  to  the  stage  door, 
saluted  and  left.  Here  they  found  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  passing.  A  group  of  men  on  guard  demanded 
special  tickets  before  they  could  pass  up  to  the  plat- 
form. Antoine  smilingly  waved  the  idea  aside.  He 
explained  -with  great  importance  who  the  lady  with  him 
was.  She  had  arrived  only  that  day  from  Moscow, 
and  wished  at  all  costs  to  be  present  at  this  meeting. 
They  were  politely  asked  to  wait.  One  of  the  men  went 
upstairs  and  presently  came  down  to  say  that  the 
princess  and  her  attendants  should  be  shown  up  at  once. 

They  found  themselves  sitting  at  the  side  of  a  crowded 
stage,  facing  a  vast  audience  of  over  ten  thousand  men 
who  packed  the  great  building.  Merlou  was  speaking. 

Antoine  watched  him  fascinated.  This  man,  with  all 
his  follies  and  his  rogueries,  was  a  great  figure  on  the 
platform.  He  did  not  know  how  to  behave  in  a  night 
restaurant,  but  he  had  the  power  of  swaying  multitudes. 
There  were  hostile  elements  in  the  great  crowd,  and  now 
and  again  there  were  interruptions,  and  cries  referring 
to  champagne.  But  like  Mark  Antony  with  the 
Romans,  the  King  of  Paris,  by  his  persuasion  and  elo- 
quence, was  winning  the  crowd  round  to  his  side. 

There  was  a  pause  in  his  speech.  Someone  behind 
him  bent  forward  and  whispered  something.  Merlou 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  125 

turned  to  the  meeting  again.  "My  friends,''  he  said,  in 
his  ringing  voice,  "you  will  be  glad  to  know  that  there 
has  just  arrived  here  from  Moscow  the  Princess  Alexan- 
drovna  Poprikoff,  one  of  the  great  ladies  of  Russia,  who 
has  made  the  cause  of  the  workers  her  own.  I  will 
present  her  to  you.  You  will  know  how  to  welcome 
her." 

Way  was  made  for  the  Princess,  a  tall,  splendid 
figure,  with  a  ihigh  fur  collar  turned  up  around  her 
face.  As  she  approached  the  center  of  the  platform 
Merlou  bowed  gallantly  and  taking  her  by  the  hand  led 
her  forward.  She  looked  magnificent  as  she  stood  there 
in  her  long  fur  coat,  and  the  huge  crowd  received  her 
with  a  thunder  of  acclamation. 

The  noise  of  the  welcome  died  down.  The  Princess 
loosened  the  collar  of  'her  coat  and  made  as  if  to  speak. 
There  was  perfect  quiet. 

"Citizens  of  Paris,"  she  said  quickly,  in  a  clear  voice 
that  carried  all  over  the  hall.  "I  have  something  im- 
portant to  say  to  you.  I  am  not  a  Princess  of  Russia 
at  all.  I  am  a  simple  dressmaker  of  Paris,  one  of  your 
own  sisters.  My  name  is  Eugenie  Vigneau.  Not  long 
ago  this  man  Merlou  came  and  made  love  to  me.  He 
was  to  marry  me,  and  I  was  to  be  Queen  of  Paris.  But 
he  borrowed  three  thousand  francs,  and  I  have  never 
seen  him  since  until  this  moment.  That  is  what  ..." 

There  came  a  roar  of  execration  from  the  sea  of  white 
faces,  and  the  sea  suddenly  became  agitated  as  thou- 
sands of  arms  shot  upwards.  Merlou  had  darted  for- 
ward and,  turning  the  speaker  sharply  round,  looked 
into  the  face  of  Eugenie.  His  own  was  suddenly  con- 
torted with  pas'sion,  and  in  his  rage,  half -demented,  he 
raised  his  clenched  fist  as  if  to  strike  her.  At  that 
there  came  another  roar,  louder  than  before,  and  from 


126       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

ten  thousand  throats  execrations  and  insults  were  hurled 
at  Merlou. 

The  frenzy  of  the  audience  communicated  itself  to  the 
platform,  chairs  were  overturned,  blows  were  struck  and 
everybody  was  pushing  and  struggling  desperately. 

In  the  midst  of  the  tumult  Merlou's  voice  could  be 
heard  rallying  his  supporters  round  him.  Antoine  and 
Durand  pushed  their  way  desperately  towards  Eugenie. 
They  reach  her  side,  and  made  themselves  her  body- 
guard, while  the  frenzied  people  pushed  and  struggled 
round  them.  Merlou  caught  sight  of  Antoine.  A  look 
of  understanding  came  into  his  eye.  He  shouted  some- 
thing that  could  not  be  heard,  and  fought  to  get  at  him. 
Other  people  were  now  fighting  to  get  at  Merlou.  The 
melee  became  serious,  even  dangerous.  Antoine  re- 
ceived a  blow  from  somebody,  he  knew  not  who.  Eugenie 
was  beginning  to  look  pale  and  distressed. 

Suddenly  a  posse  of  policemen  surged  in  from  the 
back.  They  thrust  into  the  crowd  scientifically,  pushed 
people  out  willy-nilly  through  the  door,  and  gradually 
cleared  the  platform.  A  burly  form  came  between 
Antoine  and  Eugenie  and  their  aggressors.  Antoine 
had  a  glimpse  of  a  struggling  Merlou  being  hurried  to 
the  door  by  two  stalwart  policemen.  He  breathed  more 
freely,  and  found  himself  looking  into  the  face  of 
Inspector  Sauvage. 

"So  it  appears,"  said  the  Inspector  smiling,  "that 
the  police  have  their  uses,  even  for  you." 

"Merci,"  said  Antoine.      "I  shall  not  forget  it." 

The  huge  crowd  in  the  hall  had  watched  the  unedify- 
ing  spectacle  on  the  platform  with  the  greatest  excite- 
ment. Now  that  the  situation  was  a  little  less 
complicated,  someone  in  the  hall  shouted: 

"Three  cries  of  execration  for  Merlou,  the  traitor." 
A  tremendous  hooting  and  booing  arose. 


THE  KING  OF  PARIS  127 

And  then: 

"Three  cries  of  enthusiasm  for  Eugenie  the  Princess." 

The  cheers  rolled  out,  tremendous  in  volume.  Eugenie 
had  to  go  to  the  edge  of  the  platform  and  bow.  There 
was  a  look  of  grim  exultation  in  her  fierce,  fine  eyes,  and 
the  grim  lines  of  her  mouth  were  relaxed  in  a  smile. 

"A  triumph,"  cried  Antoine  into  her  ear  as  the  uproar 
went  on.  "This  is  the  last  of  the  King  of  Paris." 

"Yes.  But  the  rogue  has  still  got  my  three  thou- 
sand francs." 

"Ah,  that  is  a  little  matter  that  must  be  seen  to," 
said  Antoine. 


IX 


THE  Prefect  of  Police  stood  surrounded  by  a  brilliant 
group  of  officers.  The  crowd  coming  from  the  meeting 
was  being  guided  down  a  long  double  line  of  police  and 
soldiers.  Once  arrived  at  the  end  of  this  armed  corridor 
the  men  were  shepherded  away  alternately  to  left  and 
right.  All  about  the  neighborhood  more  police  and 
soldiers  kept  them  on  the  move,  so  as  to  prevent  any 
further  concentration. 

"Circulez,  circulez !"  the  police  uttered  repeatedly  and 
monotonously.  But  though  some  of  the  more  eager 
spirits  among  the  police  looked  about  hopefully  for 
signs  of  resistance  to  their  orders  there  were  none  to  be 
seen.  On  the  contrary,  it  might  have  been  a  crowd 
coming  out  in  the  happiest  of  humors  from  a  Palais 
Royal  farce. 

"C'est  extraordinaire,"  exclaimed  the  little  Prefect, 
fingering  his  pointed  white  beard.  "I  expected  trouble, 
and  here  they  are  all  coming  out  singing  and  laughing. 
What  can  have  happened?" 


128       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

A  cry  went  up : 

"Down  with  Merlou,  the  traitor!"  It  was  greeted 
with  cheers. 

Another  cry: 

"Down  with  the  General  Strike!"  It  was  followed 
by  a  shout  with  enthusiasm. 

"So,"  said  the  Prefect,  his  keen  eyes  glistening  with 
amusement,  "than  the  King  of  Paris  is  deposed — and 
his  General  Strike,  too.  Well,  that  is  one  nuisance  the 
less."  He  tugged  the  famous  little  white  beard.  "But 
there  will  soon  be  others." 


CHAPTER  IV 

BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO 


IT  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  triumphant  enterprise 
of  La  Lumiere  in  the  affair  of  La  Douloureuse  and  the 
downfall  of  Merlou,  King  of  Paris,  had  excited  feelings 
only  of  admiration  amongst  its  contemporaries  of  the 
Paris  press.  It  is  too  much  to  expect  of  human  nature 
that  the  success  of  a  young  rival  should  be  accepted 
with  unalloyed  gladness  by  those  who  are  convinced  that 
such  good  fortune  belongs  by  long-established  right  only 
to  them. 

But  while  most  of  the  older  newspapers  looked  on  at 
the  growing  influence  of  La  Lumiere  with  an  interest 
which,  if  quite  innocent  of  benevolence,  was  not  actuated 
by  calculated  hostility,  there  was  one  journal  which  had 
marked  it  down  as  a  victim  to  be  sacrificed.  This  was 
Le  Jour,  most  powerful  and,  when  necessary,  most  un- 
scrupulous of  all  Paris  newspapers. 

More  than  once  before  this  an  upstart  rival,  preening 
itself  in  all  the  confidence  and  vigor  of  impetuous  youth, 
had  been  swept  out  of  existence  by  the  same  implacable 
agency.  Le  Jour  had  great  power,  and  it  was  a  power 
derived  not  only  from  the  command  of  unlimited  money. 
Its  influence  was  felt  in  a  hundred  unexpected  ways.  It 
had  accomplished  many  praiseworthy  things,  but  this 

129 


130       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

did  not  prevent  it  from  doing  bad  ones  when,  in  the 
opinion  of  Le  Jour,  the  case  demanded  it.  It  had  ex- 
posed scandals,  and  had  been  the  cause  of  others.  It 
had  made  Governments  and  wrecked  them.  Statesmen 
and  financiers  were  in  its  power.  It  knew  the  secrete 
of  many  men.  When  the  time  came  for  one  such  to  be 
useful,  Le  Jour  summoned  him,  and  made  known  its 
terms.  It  rarely  failed  to  get  what  it  wanted,  for  the 
strongest  man  could  not  hope  to  stand  against  a  cam- 
paign, insidious  or  open,  waged  against  him  in  a  news- 
paper which  sold  by  the  million. 

M.  Alexandre  Tardivel,  who  was  at  the  head  of  this 
powerful  organization,  had  guided  the  destinies  of 
Le  Jour  for  the  past  twenty-five  years.  A  small  and 
alert  man  of  sixty-five,  he  was  the  soul  of  courtesy,  and 
a  charming  individual  to  meet.  He  was  a  well-known 
art  connoisseur,  and  his  domestic  life  was  irreproachable. 
But  where  the  affairs  of  Le  Jour  were  concerned  he  was 
swayed  by  one  consideration  only — the  welfare,  as  he 
conceived  it,  of  his  journal.  In  this  cause  he  could  be 
hard  as  steel,  as  ruthless  as  a  Prussian.  For  the  well- 
being  of  Le  Jour  he  would  have  sacrificed  his  dearest 
friend. 

His  interest  in  La  Lumiere  was  first  keenly  awak- 
ened when  that  newspaper  gave  exclusively  to  the  world 
the  story  of  the  theft  of  the  most  famous  picture  of  all 
time.  He  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  the  guiding 
spirit  of  this  enterprising  contemporary  was  one  Antoine 
Poiret,  an  individual  until  then  hardly  heard  of  on  the 
Boulevards. 

To  M.  Alexandre  Tardivel  it  was  a  cause  for  the  bit- 
terest mortification  that  Le  Jour  should  have  been  so 
completely  outclassed  in  the  affair  of  La  Douloureuse. 
His  irritation  knew  no  bounds  when  La  Lumiere  re- 
peated its  success  in  the  crushing  of  Merlou,  the  red-hot 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  131 

syndicalist,  who  at  one  time  seemed  to  have  all  Paris 
under  his  thumb.  And  from  that  time  M.  Tardivel 
determined  that  both  La  Lumiere  and  its  guiding  genius, 
Antoine  Poiret,  must  be  swiftly  accounted  for. 

M.  Tardivel  was  not  long  in  finding  something  to 
work  upon.  That  private  office  of  his  round  which  so 
many  legends,  authentic  and  fantastic,  had  clustered 
(its  walls  were  said  to  be  made  of  steel,  with  a  sliding 
steel  door,  which  M.  Tardivel  could  close  by  pressing  a 
button  under  his  desk)  was  a  sounding-board  for  all 
Paris.  There  was  no  whisper  of  the  Boulevards  that 
did  not  find  its  echo  there. 

Blackmail  is  an  ugly  word.  But  none  knew  better 
than  M.  Tardivel  what  a  powerful  lever  it  could  be.  A 
cynic,  he  believed  that  every  man  had  something  in  his 
life  which  he  was  desirous  of  concealing  from  the  world. 
And  in  the  case  of  Antoine  Poiret  he  soon  found  what 
he  believed  would  suit  his  purpose  to  perfection. 

II 

ANTOINE  was  sitting  at  his  desk  one  morning,  studying 
a  report  made  by  his  advertisement  manager,  when 
Bourdot  entered  hurriedly. 

"Read  this,"  said  the  confidant  of  Duchesses  abruptly. 

Antoine  saw  that  Bourdot  had  marked  a  paragraph 
in  the  "Notes  of  the  Day"  of  Le  Jour.  •.  ;.  .  It  was 
a  very  short  paragraph.  Antoine  took  the  paper  and 
read: 

"A  little-known  adventure  is  that  which  some 
time  ago  befell  the  Director  of  one  of  our  younger 
contemporaries.  With  commendable  wisdom  he 
provided  himself  with  somebody  else's  money,  and 
proceeding  to  Monte  Carlo  tried  his  fortune  at  the 


132       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

tables.  His  luck  was  of  the  best,  and  it  is  from 
this  fortunate  episode  that  dates  all  his  success. 
It  is  so  rare  for  anybody  to  leave  Monte  Carlo  with 
a  good  deal  more  than  he  took  there  that  the  story 
deserves  some  day  to  be  told  in  full." 

Antoine  stared  hard  at  the  paragraph,  and  reread  it 
carefully. 

"You  know  what  that  means,"  said  Bourdot  breath- 
lessly. "You  see  what  is  behind  it?" 

"Do  you  think  it  means    .     .    .    ?" 

"Absolutely.  Le  Jour  has  got  its  eye  on  us.  We 
have  been  doing  too  well." 

Antoine  was  very  quiet. 

"You  are  convinced  that  I  am  the  one  aimed  at  in 
this?" 

"Who  else  can  it  be?      Of  course  it  is  you." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  is  so.  It  was  a  little  unfor- 
tunate, that  Monte  Carlo  affair.  And  yet,  just  as  this 
paragraph  says,  all  our  good  fortune  dates  from  it — 
yours  and  Morissot's,  as  well  as  mine.  And  you  know, 
mon  cher  Bourdot,  how  innocent  were  my  motives — how 
little  I  intended  that  anybody  should  suffer  from  my 
little  experience  at  the  tables. 

"Mon  cher  ami,  of  course  I  know.  Do  not  speak  of 
it.  And  does  not  La  Lumiere  owe  its  success  to  you?" 
said  Bourdot  warmly.  "The  point  now  is,  what  do  you 
think  of  this  little  development?" 

Antoine  jumped  from  his  seat  and  paced  the  floor  in 
agitation. 

"I  think  with  you  that  I  am  the  one  aimed  at.  And 
we  know  well  enough  that  Le  Jour  would  not  publish  a 
paragraph  such  as  that  without  there  being  a  good  deal 
more  behind  it.  What  does  it  say,  'The  story  deserves 
some  day  to  be  told  in  full.'  That  is  plain  enough.  We 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  133 

have  caused  jealousy,  eh,  mon  ami!  La  Lumiere  has 
been  making  itself  felt  too  much.  I  knew  that  our 
successes  had  been  talked  about.  But  I  did  not  expect 
anything  like  this.  .  .  .  It  is  that  animal  Tardivel,  I 
suppose.  He  sits  there  in  his  office  like  a  spider.  And 
he  cannot  tolerate  that  we,  the  little  Lumiere,  should 
have  done  things  which  he  and  his  big  bully  of  a  paper 
have  not  been  able  to  do.  To  think  that  such  a  man 
exists  at  this  time  of  day !  He  belongs  to  the  Middle 
Ages." 

"And  what  do  you  think  his  object  is?"  He  knew 
well  enough,  but  wanted  to  see  how  much  Antoine 
realized  it. 

"Why,  to  crush  us,  tout  simplement — or  to  crush  me, 
anyhow.  He  has  searched  for  our  weakest  spot.  He 
thinks  he  has  found  it.  This  little  announcement  is  the 
declaration  of  war.  Wre  shall  soon  hear  more." 

They  were  silent  for  a  space,  both  thinking  hard.  It 
was  no  light  matter  to  find  Le  Jour  suddenly  declared 
as  an  enemy. 

"Courage,  mon  ami,"  said  Bourdot  cheerfully.  "La 
Lumiere  is  not  dead  yet.  You  are  not  a  man  to  be 
beaten  too  easily.  And  we  will  stick  to  you  to  the 
end." 

"Merci,"  said  Antoine  a  little  huskily. 

Antoine  heard  more  even  sooner  than  he  had  expected. 
That  very  afternoon  a  letter  came  from  Le  Jour  pray- 
ing M.  Antoine  Poiret  to  be  good  enough,  if  he  could 
spare  the  time,  to  call  the  next  day  at  three  o'clock  to 
discuss  a  business  matter  of  some  importance. 

The  letter  was  signed  "A.  Tardivel,"  and  assured 
M.  Poiret  of  his  most  cordial  and  distinguished 
consideration. 

A  little  council  of  war  consisting  of  Antoine,  Bourdot 
and  Morissot  was  held  on  it. 


134       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"The  villain,  how  I  wish  he  were  just  a  politician," 
said  Morissot;  "I  would  annihilate  him." 

But  this  was  not  a  case  for  Morissot's  vitriolic  pen. 
It  was  unanimously  decided  that  Antoine  should  politely 
accept  the  "invitation."  There  was  no  way  out. 

"I  shall  listen  quietly  to  all  he  has  to  say,"  said 
Antoine.  "No  doubt  the  ruffian  will  be  very  polite. 
•  .  .  Then  we  shall  know  where  we  stand.  We  do 
not  give  in  without  a  struggle.  Is  it  not  so,  my 
friends  ?" 

They  shook  hands  solemnly  all  round. 


Ill 

THE  palatial  offices  of  Le  Jour  stood  in  a  quiet  side 
street  just  off  the  main  Boulevard.  Antoinc's  heart 
was  beating  a  little  more  quickly  than  usual  as  he 
entered  the  busy  doorway. 

A  uniformed  porter  took  his  card,  and  entered  the 
name  up  carefully  in  a  book.  Antoine  could  see  by 
the  celerity  with  which  his  card  was  despatched  on  its 
journey  that  special  instructions  had  been  given  to  see 
that  he  was  immediately  attended  to.  It  was  an  example 
of  the  organization  of  Le  Jour.  Antoine  smiled  as  he 
thought  of  the  careless  and  happy  methods  of  his  own 
office.  .  .  .  And  yet  those  methods,  or  lack  of  them, 
had  accomplished  some  very  satisfactory  things.  He 
cheered  up  at  the  thought. 

A  moment  later  he  was  traversing  interminable  cor- 
ridors behind  a  guide,  who  presently  knocked  at  a  door 
and  opened  it. 

Antoine  found  himself  in  a  large  and  noble  apartment 
with  handsome  furniture.  The  thick  carpet  felt 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  135 

luxurious  to  the  feet;  the  walls  were  lined  with  book- 
shelves and  cabinets. 

A  small,  white-haired  man,  sitting  at  a  very  large 
desk,  rose  at  his  entrance.  Antoine  walked  forward. 

"I  am  very  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Monsieur  Poiret,"  said  the  little  man  pleasantly.  "It 
is  always  agreeable  to  meet  one's  rivals  in  that  great 
profession  to  which  we  bath  have  the  honor  to  belong. 
Will  you  pray  be  seated." 

"You  are  extremely  kind,"  said  Antoine,  and  took  the 
chair  offered  him. 

"Will  you  smoke?"  M.  Tardivel  held  forward  a 
box  of  excellent  cigars.  Antoine  took  one  willingly. 
It  would  soothe  his  nerves. 

M.  Tardivel  also  took  a  cigar,  and  began  to  talk  of 
things  in  general.  His  voice  was  low  and  pleasant,  he 
had  a  quick  and  happy  smile,  and  his  observations  on 
matters  of  mutual  interest  to  them  were  spirited  and 
amusing.  In  ten  minutes  Antoine  felt  that  he  had 
known  M.  Tardivel  for  a  very  long  time.  ...  It 
required  an  effort  for  him  to  realize  what  really  lay 
behind  this  attractive  prelude.  This  was  not  at  all  what 
he  had  expected. 

"By  the  way,"  said  M.  Tardivel  without  the  slightest 
change  or  tone  or  manner,  "did  you  notice  with  any 
particular  interest  a  small  paragraph  in  our  'Notes  of 
the  Day'  yesterday?"  He  smiled  gently,  as  though  he 
were  listening  attentively  to  a  good  story. 

"Sapristi,  what  a  man !"  was  Antoine's  thought.  His 
answer  came  quickly. 

"No.  I  usually  read  the  excellent  notes  of  Le  Jour 
but  I  did  not  see  anything  which  interested  me  more 
than  usual." 

"Not  a  few  lines  referring  to  an  incident  at  Monte 
Carlo?" 


136      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Antoine  shook  his  head. 

"Ah!  Then  you  have  no  idea  of  the  nature  of  the 
business  I  wish  to  discuss  with  you." 

"Not  the  slightest,  Monsieur." 

"Oh  well,  it  can  soon  be  explained,"  said  M.  Tardivel 
affably.  He  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  enjoying 
his  cigar  with  zest.  "I  believe  it  is  a  fact  that  you  hold 
a  controlling  interest  in  La  Lumiere.  I  wish  to  possess 
myself  of  your  shares." 

"But  I  do  not  wish  to  sell,  Monsieur." 

"Possibly  not.  But  I  wish  to  have  them  just  as 
much  as  you  wish  to  keep  them.  The  point,  Monsieur 
Poiret,  is  which  one  of  us  will  prevail?"  And  M. 
Tardivel's  eyes  twinkled  with  good  humor. 

"But  this  is  extraordinary,"  said  Antoine,  assuming 
an  expression  of  amazement.  "As  I  said,  I  have  no 
desire  to  sell  them.  .  .  .  But  that  apart,  what  should 
you  propose  to  pay  for  them." 

"One  hundred  thousand  francs,"  said  M.  Tardivel, 
calmly. 

Antoine  laughed. 

"But  you  are  joking.  That  is  certainly  not  a  fifth 
of  their  value.  .  .  .  Your  proposition  is  a  little  fan- 
tastic, M.  Tardivel." 

"I  never  joke  in  matters  of  business.  Would  you  be 
good  enough  to  read  the  paragraph  which  I  have  already 
referred  to."  He  passed  over  a  little  slip  pasted  on  a 
sheet  of  paper. 

Antoine  read  the  paragraph,  as  if  for  the  first  time, 
puzzling  his  brows  over  it. 

"I  am  afraid  this  mystifies  me  more  than  ever,"  he 
said. 

"Ah!  Then  let  me  be  a  little  more  explicit." 
M.  Tardivel  crossed  the  room  to  one  of  the  cabinets, 
took  out  a  long  drawer  and  brought  it  back  to  his  desk. 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  137 

Antoine  noted  that  the  drawer  was  filled  with  scores  of 
envelopes  arranged  alphabetically.  Running  his  finger 
down  M.  Tardivel  pulled  up  an  envelope.  This  action 
dislodged  the  one  next  to  it,  which  remained  sticking  up 
above  the  rest.  Antoine  noticed  a  name  on  it.  "Baron 
Nicolas  de  Plex." 

"Tiens,  has  he  got  him  there  also,  then!"  Antoine 
murmured  to  himself.  He  felt  that  he  was  in  good 
company  to  be  next  to  a  leading  member  of  one  of  the 
most  famous  financial  houses  in  the  world. 

M.  Tardivel,  sitting  down,  spoke  again. 

"I  have  in  this  envelope  the  record  of  a  certain  ad- 
venture. It  is  in  some  ways  an  'amusing  and  sym- 
pathetic story.  It  tells  at  some  length  how  the  cashier 
and  business  manager  of  a  certain  establishment — a 
newspaper  office  to  be  precise — proceeded  to  Monte 
Carlo  with  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  which  'he  there 
risked  at  the  tables — and  curiously  enough,  with  the 
happiest  results.  I  have  had  some  small  experience  of 
Monte  Carlo  myself,  but  I  was  never  fortunate.  How- 
ever, the  point  of  the  story  I  am  briefly  outlining  to  you 
is  this — that  the  money  taken  to  Monte  Carlo  by  the 
person  in  question  was  not  his  own."  M.  Tardivel 
puffed  tranquilly  for  a  moment  at  his  cigar.  "The 
money  belonged  to  a  certain  financier  of  the  second 
order — a  certain  Leblanc  who  is  I  believe  still  in  prison, 
awaiting  the  moment  when  a  leisurely  judicature  shall 
have  sufficiently  unraveled  his  affairs  to  know  precisely 
what  to  charge  him  with.  Ours  it  a  wonderful  country, 
is  it  not,  M.  Poiret?" 

"Truly,"  said  Antoine. 

"To  resume.  The  fact  that  this  Leblanc  whose 
money  was — er — borrowed  for  the  Monte  Carlo  enter- 
prise proved  to  be  a  person  of  indifferent  repute  now 
most  happily  in  the  hands  of  the  law — this  fact,  I  say, 


138       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

while  it  imparts  a  certain  element  of  humor  into  the 
affair — it  is  always  agreeable  to  hear  of  the  biter  being 
bit — does  not  in  any  way  absolve  the  person  who,  to 
use  a  euphemism,  borrows  the  money  which  was  not  his 
own.  The  culpability  of  that  person  remains  undis- 
turbed. I  trust  my  point  is  clear." 

"It  might  have  been  put  a  little  clearer,"  said 
Antoine  audaciously,  "but  I  think  I  see  what  you 
mean." 

"Then  I  think  that  is  all  that  is  necessary,"  M. 
Tardivel  resumed,  in  the  same  level  pleasant  voice, 
"although,  of  course,  I  could  state  the  matter  more 
bluntly  if  I  wished.  But  I  abhor  bluntness,  M.  Poiret. 
We  are  a  polite  nation.  .  .  .  But  as  I  was  saying, 
the  culpability  of  this  person  is  not  lessened  by  the  fact 
that  this  Leblanc  proved  to  be  a  dishonest  financier.  In 
short,  the  person  I  am  referring  to  stole  the  money  for 
his  own  purposes.  That  is  the  point  we  must  not  lose 
sight  of.  Since  the  incidents  I  have  described  occurred 
the  individual  we  are  discussing  has  made  great  strides 
in  his  career.  He  has,  in  fact,  been  a  startling  success. 
The  enterprise  which  he  controls  has  made  wonderful 
progress.  Not  to  labor  the  point,  then,  Monsieur 
Poiret,  you  will  see  how  inconvenient  it  would  be  for  him 
if  a  journal  with  the  influence  and  circulation  of 
Le  Jour  decided  that  this  unfortunate  little  adventure 
of  his  should  be  published  to  the  world." 

"Parfaitement." 

"Now,  Monsieur  Poiret,  may  I  ask  you  whether  you 
were  already  familiar  with  the  story  I  have  outlined  to 
you  ?" 

"With  one  somewhat  similar — but  not  quite  the 
same.  At  any  rate  the  story  does  not  bear  the  same 
complexion  as  the  one  you  have  been  at  such  pains  to 
describe." 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  139 

M.  Tardivel's  eyes  twinkled. 

"I  see.  But  the  world  in  these  matters,  as  you  know, 
judges  harshly.  And  now,  Monsieur  Poiret,  a  further 
and,  I  trust,  a  final  question.  Do  you  now  see  any 
reason  why  you  should  accept  the  business  proposal  I 
made  to  you  just  now?" 

"None,"  said  Antoine  shortly. 

"Ah!"  M.  Tardivel's  eyebrows  went  up.  For  the 
first  time  during  their  interview  his  mask  of  geniality 
seemed  a  trifle  disturbed.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  resumed  the  enjoyment  of  his  cigar. 

As  for  Antoine  he  felt  that  he  could  fall  on  this  suave 
Jittle  monster  and  tear  him  to  bits.  As  he  sat  in  his 
chair  his  face  was  white,  and  his  fingers  clenched  and 
unclenched  with  passion.  This  genial  polite  villainy, 
this  polished  and  choicely  worded  exposition  of  a  cynical 
plan  to  cause  his  ruin,  had  been  too  much.  It  was  his 
rage  that  had  given  him  courage  to  defy  a  man  who  he 
knew  had  the  power  to  break  him. 

M.  Tardivel  spoke  again: 

"I  am,  if  I  may  say  so  without  offense,  an  older  man 
than  you,  Monsieur  Poiret.  I  have  had  considerable 
experience  in  this  sort  of  thing,  and  I  feel  convinced 
that  after  you  have  thought  the  matter  over  quietly 
you  will  see  as  I  do.  I  will  give  you  a  week,  no  more, 
to  think  it  over.  If  I  do  not  hear  from  you  within  that 
time  it  will  be  my  painful  duty  to  take  the  measures  I 
have  suggested. 

"Then  that  is  all,"  said  Antoine  harshly. 

"For  the  present,  Monsieur  Poiret." 

"Then  I  bid  you  good  day,"  said  Antoine,  rising  and 
turning  on  his  heel. 

"Good  day,  Monsieur  Poiret,"  came  the  polite  tones 
of  M.  Tardivel  behind  him. 

The  door  opened  as  he  reached  it.      Outside  the  man 


140       ,THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

who  had  conducted  him  there  stood  waiting.  Antoine 
followed  him  out  of  the  building,  his  brain  a  whirl  of 
anger.  He  gasped  with  relief  as  he  stood  in  the  free 
air  of  the  Boulevard  again. 

But  what  was  to  be  done?  What  chance  had  he  of 
checkmating  this  powerful  and  unscrupulous  little  man? 

IV 

BARON  NICHOLAS  DE  PLEX  was  one  of  the  best-known 
figures  in  Parisian  society.  He  took  an  active  interest 
in  the  great  international  banking  house  to  which  he 
belonged,  but  this  did  not  prevent  him  from  making  the 
most  of  life  in  many  other  directions. 

It  was  generally  understood  that  he  saw  very  little  of 
the  Baroness,  but  wherever  the  fashionable  world  was 
gathered  there  the  Baron  was  to  be  found.  He  was  as 
well  known  at  Cowes  as  at  Deauville;  his  steam  yacht 
was  a  welcome  visitor  at  Monte  Carlo,  his  racing  stable 
was  one  of  the  finest  in  France,  and  from  winter  sports 
at  St.  Moritz  to  "finding  the  Lady"  on  Epsom  Downs 
and  tarpon  fishing  off  Florida  there  was  little  he  had 
not  done.  He  spoke  all  the  languages  of  Europe,  and 
was  said  to  pride  himself  on  his  perfect  Rumanian 
accent. 

In  Paris  he  possessed  a  large  mansion  near  the  Pare 
Monceau,  but  his  favorite  residence  was  what  he  called 
his  "bachelor's  den" — a  most  commodious  and  luxurious 
flat  on  the  Champs  Elysees.  It  was  famous  for  its  ex- 
cellent supper  parties,  and  the  Baron  was  never  so 
happy  as  when  presiding  over  one  of  these  entertain- 
ments. A  man  of  an  open  and  generous  mind  he  cared 
little  as  to  who  his  guests  might  be,  provided  they 
washed  and  were  interesting.  Poets,  actresses,  Cabinet 
Ministers,  successful  jockeys,  financiers,  and  even  mem- 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  141 

bers  of  Society  sat  happily  together  under  their  generous 
host,  who  possessed  the  great  gift  of  making  everybody 
appreciate  everybody  else  so  long  as  he  was  present. 
One  of  his  most  successful  soirees  had  been  when 
amongst  the  many  guests  at  his  table  he  had  the  most 
famous  matador  in  Spain,  the  heavyweight  boxing 
champion  of  the  world  and  the  Public  Executioner  of 
France,  who  charmed  everybody  by  his  gentlemanly 
and  unassuming  bearing. 

On  this  particular  evening  of  Antoine's  visit  to 
Le  Jour,  the  Baron  was  at  his  flat  putting  on  the  dress 
clothes  which  his  valet  had  laid  out  for  him.  He  felt  a 
little  dissatisfied  as  he  had  nothing  to  do  after  dinner, 
and  to  a  man  of  the  Baron's  temperament  there  was 
nothing  quite  so  dreadful.  There  was  a  knock  at  the 
door  of  his  dressing-room  and  the  valet  entered  with  a 
card.  The  Baron  read  "M.  Antoine  Poiret,  Director 
of  La  Lumiere." 

"He  says,  Monsieur  le  Baron,  that  the  affair  is  one 
of  importance.  He  seems  to  be  in  a  state  of  some  ex- 
citement," ventured  the  valet. 

"Let  him  wait  in  the  smoking-room.  I  shall  be  there 
in  a  few  minutes,"  said  the  Baron. 

A  few  moments  later  the  Baron,  impressive  in  his  per- 
fect evening  dress,  greeted  his  visitor,  who  he  noticed 
seemed  pale  and  worried. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Monsieur  Poiret?"  he  said 
politely. 

"I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  Monsieur  le  Baron,  and 
I  trust  it  is  not  an  inconvenient  hour,"  said  Antoine. 
"I  'have  been  trying  to  find  you  for  some  hours  past. 
I  have  been  to  your  offices,  to  your  house,  to  the  Jockey 
Club  .  .  ." 

"It  sounds  urgent,  your  business,"  said  the  Baron, 
smiling. 


142       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"It  is  urgent — and  peculiar.  I  wish  to  consult  you 
on  a  very  curious  matter.  What  I  have  to  tell  you 
will  require  some  little  explanation.  I  trust  you  will 
have  time  to  listen  to  me." 

"But  what  is  the  nature  of  this  affair?" 

"It  concerns  M.  Tardivel  of  Le  Jour,  myself  and  to 
a  certain  extent,  yourself.  .  .  . "  Antoine  spoke 
hurriedly  and  with  feeling.  "I  am  the  victim  of  an 
odious  conspiracy  which  vitally  concerns  my  own  career 
and  that  of  the  paper  which  I  control.  I  have  come  to 
you  decided,  if  you  will  permit  it,  to  impart  a  certain 
confidence  to  you  in  the  hope  that  you  may  be  able  to 
advise  me  in  a  very  difficult  situation." 

"You  intrigue  me,  Monsieur  Poiret.  This  sounds 
almost  exciting.  >  .  (.  How  long  will  it  take  you  to 
tell  me?" 

"Half  an  hour,  perhaps.  How  much  longer  depends 
on  whether  you  think  you  may  be  able  to  interest  your- 
self in  the  matter." 

"Half  an  hour  is  a,  long  time,  and  I  begin  to  feel  that 
it  is  near  dinner  time.  .  .  .  But  I  have  an  idea. 
Will  you  dine  with  me,  and  then  we  can  talk  over  the 
matter  at  leisure." 

"It  is  most  kind  of  you   .    .    .   but  I  am  not  dressed." 

"That  does  not  matter.  If  you  wish  we  will  take  a 
private  room  somewhere.  I  have  nothing  to  do  this 
evening.  No  doubt  your  story  will  save  me  from  bore- 
dom. My  car  is  waiting  down  at  the  door.  Come." 

And  Antoine  for  the  first  time  since  his  interview  with 
M.  Tardivel  began  to  feel  that  fortune  had  not  deserted 
him. 

The  drive  down  the  Champs  Elysees  in  the  Baron's 
luxurious  laudaulette  soothed  him.  They  stopped  at  a 
well-known  cafe  in  the  Rue  Royale,  and  in  a  twinkling 
as  it  seemed  to  Antoine  they  were  sitting  in  a  cosy 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  143 

cabinet  particulier  with  a  deferential  maitre  d'hotel 
taking  the  Baron's  order. 

They  chatted  about  all  sorts  of  matters  during  din- 
ner. It  was  not  until  coffee  and  cigars  were  before 
them  that  the  Baron  signified  his  desire  to  hear  Antoine's 
story. 

"And  now  for  your  revelations,"  he  said. 

Antoine  smiled. 

"They  are  perhaps  not  so  sensational  as  all  that, 
Monsieur  le  Baron.  But  in  two  words  the  idea  is  to 
ruin  the  paper  I  direct,  and  incidentally  myself.  You 
have  heard  of  Alexandre  Tardivel,  I  presume." 

The  Baron  laughed. 

"Have  I  not." 

"And  you  no  doubt  know  something  of  his  methods  ?" 

"A  little." 

"Then  perhaps  you  will  be  able  to  understand  already 
something  of  this  affair.  But  with  your  permission  I 
will  begin  at  the  beginning  and  tell  you  everything. 
I  have  to  make  a  little  confession  of  my  own,  but  I 
know  how  implicitly  I  can  trust  you  in  regard  to  my  own 
email  affairs." 

The  Baron  inclined  his  head  to  the  compliment,  and 
Antoine  began  his  story.  He  told  of  the  Monte  Carlo 
adventure,  the  happy  ending  to  it,  the  subsequent 
growth  of  La  Lumiere,  and  something  of  his  own  share 
in  that  success,  ending  up  with  his  interview  with  M. 
Tardivel.  The  Baron  listened  with  the  keenest  interest. 

"It  is  a  pretty  idea,"  he  said  when  Antoine  had 
finished.  "What  an  ingenious  and  implacable  scoundrel 
Tardivel  is.  But  there  is  one  thing  you  said  when  I 
first  saw  you  this  evening  which  I  do  not  yet  understand. 
You  said  that  I  also  was  to  some  extent  concerned  in 
this.  I  do  not  yet  see  where  I  enter." 

"That  is  simple,"  said  Antoine.      "You  and  I,  if  I 


144       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

may  say  so,  are  in  a  sense  together  in  this  affair. 
Neighbors  I  might  almost  say.  That  was  why  I 
thought  of  coming  to  you.  The  next  envelope  to  mine 
in  M.  Tardivel's  drawer  of  secret  documents  was  marked 
with  your  name." 

"The  devil  it  was!"  The  Baron  sat  up  straight  in 
his  chair. 

"Yes.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  able  to  notice 
that.  When  I  left  him,  after  his  odious  proposal,  my 
brain  was  on  fire  with  anger  and  distress.  I  felt  power- 
less in  the  hands  of  this  merciless  man.  But  as  I 
walked  away  from  the  office  of  Le  Jour  your  name  came 
into  my  head.  The  idea — I  trust  you  will  pardon  the 
thought — that  my  little  story  and  something  concerning 
yourself  were  lying  side  by  side  in  that  sinister  cabinet 
made  me  feel  that  perhaps  you  would  listen  to  my  story, 
and  perhaps  help  me  if  you  could.  I  jumped  into  a 
taxi  to  go  in  search  of  you.  And  that  is  all." 

The  Baron  smiled  thoughtfully  as  he  knocked  the  ash 
off  his  cigar. 

"And  so  I  am  in  the  box  too.  I  wonder  what  for." 
He  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead.  "I  am  nearly 
fifty  years  of  age,  Monsieur  Poiret.  I  have  lived  a 
life  that  has  been  full  'of  incident,  even  excitement.  I 
have  perhaps  been  a  little  too  assiduous  in  the  search 
for  pleasure — and  naturally  I  have  not  always  found  it. 
But  all  the  same  I  cannot  remember  ever  having  done 
any  man,  or  woman,  any  great  harm.  I  wonder  what  it 
is  that  he  can  be  holding  over  my  head.  I  would  give 
much  to  know." 

"Perhaps  some  day,  when  he  thinks  you  might  be 
useful  to  him,  he  will  acquaint  you  with  it." 

"Very  likely.  That  is  the  Tardivel  system.  And  I 
assure  you  I  should  enjoy  the  interview  thoroughly.  I 
am  already  torn  with  curiosity  to  know  what  he  has  in 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  145 

the  envelope  that  bears  my  name,  and  I  think  I  should 
be  ready  to  agree  to  any  terms  in  advance  to  find  out 
now  what  form  his  threat  would  take.  .  .  .  However, 
that  must  wait.  And  now  about  your  affair.  He  has 
given  you  a  week's  grace.  If  at  the  end  of  that  time 
you  do  not  fall  in  with  his  suggestion  he  attacks  you 
and  La  Lumiere.  Now  tell  me,  how  exactly  did  you 
think  I  might  be  able  to  help  you?" 

"Ma  foi,  my  ideas  were  rather  vague.  But  one  thing 
I  did  think  of.  It  is  M.  Tardivel's  motto  in  life  that 
every  man  is  vulnerable  somewhere.  Every  man  has 
something  in  his  life  which  he  desires  to  keep  secret,  is 
I  believe  his  way  of  putting  it.  It  occurred  to  me  then, 
that  perhaps  M.  Tardivel  himself  might  have  a  vulner- 
able spot.  But  how  to  find  out?  I  know  so  little  about 
him.  Then  I  thought  of  you.  You  know  so  many 
people,  have  so  much  power  and  influence.  It  was  a 
desperate  hope.  I  have  no  right  to  expect  that  you 
would  be  willing  to  see  it  as  I  do.  But  if  there  is  a  way 
of  checkmating  this  medieval  plotter  I  thought  you 
would  be  the  man  to  show  me." 

"That  is  a  sound  idea  of  yours — to  look  for  the 
vulnerable  spot  in  the  man  who  believes  that  every  other 
man  is  vulnerable  somewhere.  But  I  also  know  very 
little  about  him.  .  .  .  But  stay  a  moment.  Has  not 
Tardivel  a  son,  Gaston,  a  young  man  about  twenty- 
three?" 

"I  believe  he  has." 

"I  heard  about  something  only  the  other  day  in  which 
that  name  cropped  up — something  disreputable  too. 
A  card  scandal  at  one  of  the  clubs.  .  .  .  It  is  very 
possible  that  it  would  be  Tardivel's  son.  A  young  man 
with  rather  a  lively  reputation  all  round  I  believe.  .  .  . 
Now  if  it  were  so,  and  the  father  really  had  a  very  weak 
spot  in  his  son?  Would  that  suit  you,  M.  Poiret?" 


146       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"But  splendidly!  I  felt  somehow  you  would  be  able 
to  help,"  cried  Antoine,  his  face  lighting  up  with  sudden 
excitement  and  hope.  "If  there  is  really  anything  in 
that  I  should  hold  a  far  stronger  card  over  that  bad 
old  man  than  he  holds  over  me.  I  have  no  wish  to  hurt 
the  son — but  my  first  thought  must  be  to  protect  my- 
self, my  paper,  my  confreres.  And  I  do  not  think  this 
old  scoundrel  would  go  on  with  his  scheme  of  ruining  me 
if  I  could  show  him  that,  just  for  once,  two  could  play 
at  his  game." 

"You  would  be  perfectly  justified,"  said  the  Baron. 
"Perhaps  this  affair  of  the  son  may  help  you — perhaps 
not.  But  it  is  certainly  worth  trying.  Why  not  be- 
'come  active  at  once?" 

"There  is  nothing  that  would  please  me  better.  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  thank  you  enough." 

"I  think  I  know  where  we  might  be  able  to  find  him 
at  once.  How  long  would  it  take  you  to  dress  and 
return  here  ?  My  car  is  still  available." 

"Three-quarters  of  an  hour." 

"Good.      Then  I  will  wait  here  until  you  return." 

V 

ANTOINE  some  time  before  this  had  moved  from  his 
modest  quarters  in  Montmartre  and  taken  a  small  but 
handsome  flat  in  the  new  Boulevard  Raspail.  In  the 
Baron's  luxurious  car  he  arrived  there  in  less  than  ten 
minutes  and  at  once  rang  up  the  office.  Morissot 
answered,  and  Antoine  gave  him  a  hurried  outline  of 
what  had  happened  between  him  and  Tardivel,  passing 
on  to  his  interview  with  the  Baron. 

"It  sounds  promising,"  said  Morissot.  "I  have  heard 
of  that  young  man.  I  believe  he  is  quite  a  source  of 
worry  to  his  dear  old  father.  Stick  to  it.  It  may  save 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  147 

us.  And  don't  forget,  we  leave  it  entirely  to  you. 
Bonne  chance!" 

Antoine  dressed  swiftly,  surveyed  himself  in  the  glass 
with  satisfaction,  and  was  back  with  the  Baron  in  less 
than  the  time  he  had  allowed  himself. 

"There  is  no  hurry,"  said  the  Baron.  "Our  young 
man  is  not  likely  to  be  seen  too  early  in  the  evening.  I 
will  dismiss  the  car  and  we  will  stroll  up  the  Boulevards 
at  our  leisure."  • 

They  picked  their  way  along  the  crowded  pavements 
and  several  times  the  Baron  was  saluted  with  much 
empressement  by  distinguished  looking  gentlemen  whom 
they  passed.  Antoine  felt  that  it  was  good  to  be  in 
such  company.  The  cloud  that  had  been  hanging  over 
him  all  day  had  lifted.  There  was  something  about  the 
Baron  that  inspired  confidence  and  security.  With 
such  an  ally  things  would  surely  come  out  all  right. 

They  continued  their  walk  down  the  Avenue  de 
I'Opera  and  here  the  Baron  turned  into  a  doorway  which 
Antoine  knew  was  that  of  the  "Cercle  de  1'Armee,"  one 
of  the  most  exclusive  clubs  in  Paris.  The  Baron  spoke 
to  a  porter,  who  said  something  in  reply  in  a  very  low 
voice. 

"This  is  getting  quite  interesting,"  said  the  Baron 
as  they  walked  into  the  club.  "Young  Tardivel  is  no 
longer  a  member  here.  The  little  scandal  I  mentioned 
was  investigated  by  the  Committee  a  few  days  ago,  and 
as  a  result  it  was  intimated  to  him  that  his  presence 
here  was  no  longer  required." 

Antoine  whistled  happily. 

"What  a  piece  of  luck — I  trust,  Baron,  you  do  not 
mind  my  so  regarding  it.  I  have  never  met  this  young 
man,  and  I  confess  I  should  be  delighted  to  hear  that 
he  was  as  big  a  blackguard  openly  as  his  infamous 
father  is  in  another  fashion.  To  be  turned  out  of  the 


148       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Cercle  de  1'Armec — it  is  already  a  good  deal.  Tardivel 
pere  would  not  be  pleased  this  evening  to  know  that  I 
knew  that.  I  wonder  if  he  knows  it  himself?" 

They  were  sitting  now  in  the  smoke-room.  A  very 
old  waiter,  his  head  shiny  and  round  as  a  billiard  ball, 
stood  near. 

"You  see  the  waiter  there,  old  Pierre,"  said  the  Baron. 
"He  has  a  genius  for  knowing  everything  about  every 
member  here — and  a  good  many  other  things  too.  I 
think  it  might  be  as  well  to  have  a  discreet  word  with 
him." 

He  signaled  to  Pierre,  and  ordered  two  liqueurs.  When 
the  old  man  returned  with  them  the  Baron  encouraged 
him  to  talk.  Pierre,  much  flattered,  availed  himself  of 
the  chance,  and  led  up  adroitly  to  the  subject  of  the 
Baron's  racing  stable,  hoping  to  pick  up  some  valuable 
crumbs  of  information. 

"One  of  these  days,  Pierre,  when  I  know  it,  I  will  tell 
you  something  good,"  said  the  Baron.  "As  a  rule  I 
am  the  last  man  to  hear  anything  really  interesting 
about  my  own  horses.  But,  by  the  way,  where  is  young 
Tardivel  who  used  to  be  here  so  much?" 

Pierre  spread  out  his  hands  with  a  gesture  that  might 
have  meant  anything. 

"Monsieur  le  Baron  has  not  heard?  He  left  here 
,.  .  .  suddenly.  Only  >a  few  days  ago.  There  was 
a  little  .  .  .  discussion  ...  in  the  card  room,  and 
Monsieur  Tardivel  was  judged  to  be  in  the  wrong  .  >  >, 
He  plays  high,  that  young  man." 

"Ah,  and  so  he  has  left.  And  where  does  he  exercise 
his  talents  now?" 

"Not  very  far  from  here,  or  so  I  believe,  Monsieur 
le  Baron.  There  has  been  a  new  tripot  opened  in  the 
Rue  Helder — a  most  cine  place  I  am  told.  So  far  the 
police  do  not  seem  to  have  heard  anything  about  it — 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  149 

or  at  any  rate  they  have  not  paid  it  a  visit.  And  M. 
Tardivel  I  believe  passes  a  good  deal  of  his  time  there. 
Number  91  Rue  Holder.  The  second  floor." 

"Thank  you,  Pierre,"  laughed  the  Baron.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  way  in  which  the  waiter  had  in- 
sisted on  the  address.  "But  I  don't  propose  to  go 
there."  And  the  old  man  went  off  with  a  profound 
bow. 

The  Baron  looked  at  Antoine. 

"A  new  and  luxurious  tripot!  It  recalls  the  mis- 
spent years  of  my  youth.  I  haven't  been  inside  a 
gambling  den — at  least  the  kind  that  is  frowned  on  by 
the  law — for  a  very  long  time.  M.  Poiret — do  you  feel 
adventurous  ?" 

Antoine's  eyes  twinkled. 

"I  should  desire  nothing  better." 

They  walked  back  slowly  up  the  Avenue,  and  shortly 
arrived  at  91  Rue  Helder. 

"It  seems  innocent  enough,"  said  the  Baron,  looking 
up  at  the  building.  "But  we  will  try  the  second  floor." 

After  ascending  two  flights  of  a  broad  carpeted 
staircase  they  found  themselves  outside  a  door  which 
seemed  all  innocence.  The  Baron  pressed  the  bell,  the 
door  opened  and  a  man  in  the  livery  of  a  valet  de  pied 
appeared.  Without  speaking  a  word  the  Baron  stepped 
inside. 

The  man  looked  at  them. 

"You  are  not  members,  Messieurs.  But,"  and  he 
bowed  to  the  Baron.  "I  once  had  the  honor  to  be  in 
the  household  of  Monsieur  le  Baron."  He  hesitated, 
not  quite  knowing  what  to  say.  .  .  .  "No  doubt  it 
will  be  all  right.  En  tout  cas,  with  Monsieur  le  Baron 
it  will  be  a  simple  formality  without  the  slightest  diffi- 
culty. The  vestaire  is  here."  And  he  relieved  them  of 
their  hats  and  coats. 


150       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

The  Baron  smiled  as  the  footman  preceded  them  into 
the  rooms. 

"It  was  easier  than  I  thought." 

"It  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  being  known  to  all  the 
world,"  said  Antoine. 

"It  has  its  drawbacks,"  replied  the  Baron. 

Leading  them  through  an  elegantly  furnished  ante- 
room, fitted  with  lounges  and  little  tables  for  smokers, 
the  footman  opened  a  large  door  and  the  two  stepped 
into  another  room,  of  much  larger  size  and  brilliantly 
lighted.  Their  entry  caused  no  attention.  In  the 
center  of  the  room  was  a  crowd  of  some  scores  of  people, 
gathered  round  a  large  table.  The  scene  brought 
Monte  Carlo  back  to  Antoine  in  a  flash.  The  people 
were  of  just  the  same  kind  as  those  he  had  seen  crowd- 
ing round  the  tables  there. 

The  two  joined  the  crowd  and  looked  over  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  people  in  front.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 
money  on  the  green  cloth. 

"Baccarat,"  whispered  the  Baron.  "And  the  young 
man  who  is  holding  the  bank  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  our 
young  friend." 

"I  can  see  his  sainted  father  in  every  line  of  his  face," 
said  Antoine. 

"Luck  does  not  seem  to  be  going  too  well  with  him." 

It  was  soon  evident  that  the  play  was  high.  Tardivel, 
a  pale  young  man  with  short  spiky  hair  that  met  in  a 
point  in  the  center  of  his  forehead,  was  frowning  darkly. 
Evidently  he  was  losing,  and  quite  as  surely  he  did  not 
like  it. 

The  croupier's  voice  rang  out  monotonously,  and 
Antoine  thought  of  his  feverish  visit  to  Monte  Carlo. 
Curious  that  his  own  gamble  with  fate  should  be  so 
closely  linked  up  with  this  young  man's  unhappy  ex- 
perience at  the  gaming  tables.  He  began  to  feel  almost 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  151 

sorry  for  young  Tardivel,  for  the  strained  look  on  his 
face  showed  how  much  he  was  feeling  his  ill  luck.  There 
was  another  shuffling  of  the  money  on  the  cloth,  and 
the  two  notes  and  the  few  pieces  of  gold  that  still  re- 
mained before  the  son  of  his  enemy  were  swept  up.  The 
young  man  rose  suddenly  from  his  chair  and  left  the 
table. 

He  walked  to  a  buffet  that  stood  at  one  end  of  the 
room  and  pouring  out  a  large  dose  of  cognac  into  a 
glass  drank  it  off  at  a  gulp.  He  .stood  there  looking  at 
the  crowd  that  still  surrounded  the  table  with  an  ex- 
pression of  profound  chagrin  on  his  face. 

"I  should  say  that  in  his  present  mood  that  young 
man  is  capable  of  anything,"  observed  the  Baron. 

After  a  moment  the  young  man,  his  face  still  dis- 
torted with  anger  and  vexation,  moved  slowly  towards 
the  door.  He  paused  there  irresolute  and  looked  back 
at  the  crowd  gathered  round  the  table,  then  passed  out. 

"I  would  give  anything  to  follow  him,"  exclaimed 
Antoine.  "It  might  mean  everything." 

The  Baron  plucked  his  moustache  thoughtfully. 

"So  be  it,"  he  said.  "I  see  no  reason  why  the  ad- 
venture should  not  be  allowed  to  continue." 

Tardivel  was  just  getting  his  coat  and  hat  as  they 
came  out  of  the  gaming  room.  They  waited  until  the 
door  had  closed  on  him.  The  Baron  gave  a  gold  piece 
to  the  footman,  who  thanked  him  profusely,  and  ap- 
peared with  their  coats  and  hats  in  a  twinkling.  He 
opened  the  door  to  let  them  out  only  a  few  seconds  after 
Tardivel  had  descended  the  staircase. 

As  they  gained  the  street  they  noticed  three  taxicabs 
drawn  up  in  line  before  the  door.  A  man  in  civilian 
dress  stood  surrounded  by  half  a  dozen  policemen,  to 
whom  he  was  saying  something  in  a  low  voice. 

"A  raid,  mon  ami,"  whispered  the  Baron.      "I  am 


152       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

decidedly  pleased  that  you  suggested  that  moment  for 
leaving.  There  are  some  things  that  need  too  much 
explanation." 

VI 

"THERE  is  our  man,  just  turning  into  the  Boulevard," 
said  Antoine.  "Quick,  before  we  lose  him  in  the 
crowd." 

They  hastened  their  steps.  It  was  the  hour  when  the 
theatres  were  closing,  and  the  broad  pavement  was 
thronged  with  people.  They  caught  sight  of  their 
quarry  in  the  crowd,  and  to  keep  securely  in  touch  with 
him  it  was  necessary  to  follow  at  only  a  few  yards' 
distance. 

"It  is  the  first  time  I  have  played  detective,"  laughed 
the  Baron.  "I  am  indebted  to  you  for  a  new  sensation." 

Tardivel  walked  along  at  a  moderate  pace,  his  head 
down,  his  hands  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets.  He 
crossed  the  Place  de  1'Opera,  and  a  little  further  down 
the  Boulevard  turned  into  a  side  street  and  stopped 
outside  tihe  Theatre  des  Italiens. 

The  Italiens  was  one  of  the  smallest  and  smartest 
theatres  in  Paris.  As  young  Tardivel  reached  it  the 
lights  at  the  front  went  out.  He  remained  standing 
there  for  a  few  moments,  looked  at  his  watch,  and  then 
suddenly  disappeared  into  a  narrow  passage  that  ran 
by  the  side  of  the  theatre. 

"That  leads  up  to  the  stage  door,"  said  Antoine. 

"Cherches  la  femme,  eh?  I  am  afraid  our  adventure 
does  not  venture  too  well.  It  is  sufficiently  banal  that 
a  young  man  of  his  type  should  go  and  wait  at  a  stage 
door."  The  Baron's  voice  was  not  enthusiastic. 

They  were  standing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
Antoine  too  felt  a  little  discouraged.  After  all,  he 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  153 

could  not  expect  an  important  personage  like  the  Baron 
to  wander  vaguely  all  night  round  Paris  at  the  heels 
of  a  dissolute  young  man. 

But  then  it  might  mean  everything  to  him.  It  might 
save  him,  his  colleagues,  the  paper.  It  was  the  only 
chance  he  had. 

"Do  not  let  us  give  up  yet,"  he  urged.  "Think  of 
that  old  spider  sitting  in  his  office  at  this  moment  with 
my  fate  in  his  hands — with  documents  relating  to  your- 
self, containing  Heaven  knows  what.  Stay  here  but 
one  moment  and  I  will  go  and  pick  up  a  taxicab.  We 
can  watch  more  comfortably  in  that,  and  it  may  be  as 
well  to  have  one  ready." 

"Agreed,"  said  the  Baron,  and  took  out  a  cigar. 
Antoine  walked  rapidly  to  the  boulevard  and  in  a  mo- 
ment returned  inside  a  taxi.  The  Baron  entered,  and 
they  sat  there  smoking  in  the  darkness  of  the  cab. 

Five  minutes  went,  and  to  pass  the  time  the  Baron 
began  to  relate  a  curious  adventure  that  had  befallen 
him  when  exploring  the  Bowery  district  of  New  York. 

Antoine,  who  was  looking  out  of  the  window,  inter- 
rupted him : 

"There  he  is  again.  .  .  .  And  surely  the  Lady  with 
him  is  La  Belle  Yolande !" 

"La  Belle  Yolande!"  exclaimed  the  Baron  with  sud- 
den interest.  "That  would  explain  a  lot."  He  leaned 
forward  and  looked  out.  "Yes  it  is  indeed  she.  And 
so  that  is  why  young  Tardivel  tries  so  desperately  to 
make  money.  Ah  me!  What  fools  these  young  men 
are.  I  "wonder  how  many  moths  have  singed  their 
wings  at  that  brilliant  candle.  And  she  has  been  burn- 
ing quite  a  long  time  now." 

The  two,  standing  under  the  light  of  a  street  lamp, 
could  be  seen  very  plainly.  The  young  man  was  ob- 
viously pleading,  but  there  was  a  hard  look  on  the  face 


154.      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

of  the  famous  beauty.  They  moved  across  the  street 
towards  the  cab,  talking  rapidly,  and  the  two  men  inside 
sat  back  in  its  shadows. 

"I  assure  you,"  they  heard  Tardivel  say,  "I  have 
tried  every  possible  means.  My  father  was  like  a  stone. 
When  I  mentioned  twenty  thousand  francs  he  laughed. 
And  I've  tried  other  ways,  desperate  ways.  You've  no 
idea  what  I've  done."  His  voice  was  shaking  with 
earnestness  and  anxiety. 

"That  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  replied  the  beauty  in 
calm,  level  tones.  "My  dear  friend,  you  know  how 
badly  I  need  the  money  just  now.  What  then  is  the 
use  of  coming  to  tell  me  that  you  have  not  found  it? 
Naturally  you  have  tried.  But  if  you  have  not  suc- 
ceeded it  is  of  no  use  to  me,  is  it?"  And  she  laughed, 
a  maddening,  rippling  laugh. 

"But  Yolande,  ma  bien  aimee."  The  young  man's 
voice  was  almost  tearful  now.  "Be  generous.  You 
must  not  let  it  finish  like  this.  I  will  try  again.  Give 
me  another  two  days,  another  day.  I  will  do  it  some- 
how, no  matter  what  the  cost.  Give  me  the  chance  to 
try  again." 

"Ecoutez,  mon  ami.  This  is  getting  tiresome."  Her 
swift  cold  words  cut  into  his  pleading  like  a  whip  lash. 
"Twenty  thousand  francs  is  not  a  very  large  sum.  I 
have  asked  for  ten  times  as  much  before  now,  and  re- 
ceived it.  And  then,  I  did  not  ask  for  your  attentions. 
You  sought  me  out.  I  am  sick  of  it  all.  If  you  love 
me  so  desperately,  that  is  your  affair.  As  for  me,  you 
bore  me.  Is  that  clear?  If  so  please  call  me  a  cab." 

"Ah!"  There  came  a  gasp  from  the  young  man. 
"And  that  is  what  you  say  when  I  cannot  do  what  you 
want.  I  who  have  been  in  a  fever  for  days  past  trying 
to  get  this  money.  I  who  have  cheated  at  cards,  who 
have  been  disgraced  .  .  . " 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  155 

"Imbecile!  Did  I  ask  you  to  cheat  at  cards,  did  I 
ask  you  to  disgrace  yourself!"  The  voice  of  the  beau- 
tiful Yolande  was  intense  with  anger  and  irritation. 
"And  now  you  come  here  like  a  schoolboy  crying  about 
your  misfortunes.  Ah,  zut!  If  you  only  knew  how  I 
detest  the  sight  of  you."  Her  final  tone  was  delib- 
erately coarse  and  insulting. 

"Miserable  one,"  came  the  voice  of  young  Tardivel, 
in  a  hoarse  shout.  "You  shall  pay  for  your  heartless- 
ness."  And  in  the  startled  ears  of  the  two  listeners  in 
the  cab  there  rang  the  report  of  a  pistol,  .and  a  shriek 
from  Yolande. 

The  two  were  galvanized  into  instant  activity. 
Antoine  leaped  out  of  the  cab,  with  the  Baron  after 
him.  On  the  ground  lay  Yolande.  Antoine  looked 
round  quickly  and  saw  the  figure  of  the  young  man 
flying  away  down  the  quiet  street. 

He  bent  over  the  prostrate  woman.  Her  face  was 
very  pale,  but  she  was  still  breathing. 

"Where  is  she  hit?"  asked  the  Baron. 

"I  cannot  tell.    .    .    ,.    She  is  at  any  rate  not  dead." 

"We  shall  have  the  police  and  the  crowd  here  at  any 
moment.  .  .  .  Look,  people  are  running  up  already. 
I  think,  my  friend,  it  will  be  wiser  for  both  of  us  if  we 
know  nothing  whatever  of  this  affair."  He  spoke  in  a 
low  tone  so  that  the  chauffeur  should  not  hear. 

"As  you  wish,"  said  Antoine.  He  felt  shaken  by 
this  tragic  turn  to  the  quarrel. 

A  moment  before  the  street  had  been  deserted,  but 
now  scores  of  people  were  hurrying  down  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Boulevard.  Amongst  them  Antoine  noticed 
a  policeman. 

As  he  came  up  the  policeman  shot  a  quick  glance  at 
Antoine  and  the  Baron  before  kneeling  down  at  the  side 


156       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

of  the  woman.  The  crowd  closed  round  the  group,  pant- 
ing with  excitement. 

The  policeman  stood  up  again. 

"This  woman  has  been  shot,"  he  announced  with  ex- 
traordinary wisdom.  "I  heard  the  report  of  a  firearm. 
Do  you  gentlemen  know  anything  about  it  ?"  He  spoke 
respectfully  but  firmly. 

"We  were  sitting  waiting  here  in  this  cab,"  said 
Antoine.  "We  heard  the  sound  of  a  discussion  between 
two  people,  and  then  the  shot.  When  we  jumped  out 
the  woman  was  lying  here  and  a  man  was  running  away 
up  the  street  there.  You  know  the  rest." 

"We  must  take  her  to  the  nearest  pharmacie.  And 
you,  Messieurs,  must  accompany  me  there.  Please  help 
me  with  her  into  the  cab." 

With  some  little  difficulty  and  to  the  great  excitement 
of  the  crowd  this  was  done.  The  Baron  thanked  his 
stars  that  nobody  called  out  his  name.  He  did  not 
seem  to  have  been  recognized. 

The  policeman  sat  holding  Yolande,  and  just  as  the 
cab  started  away  she  stirred  and  gave  a  sign.  The 
nearest  chemist's  shop  open  at  that  time  was  in  the 
Rue  Lafayette.  They  arrived  there  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  Yolande  was  carried  into  the  shop  by  the  policeman 
and  the  chauffeur.  The  matter  was  explained  at  once 
to  the  chemist  who  directed  that  she  should  be  laid  on  a 
couch  in  the  farther  corner  of  the  room.  Round  this 
he  placed  a  screen  and  proceeded  immediately  to  make 
an  examination  of  the  victim. 

They  waited  there  in  the  shop,  while  another  crowd 
gathered  outside.  Antoine  felt  anxious  and  disturbed. 
This  was  an  unfortunate  business,  not  at  all  what  he 
•had  expected.  It  spoiled  his  scheme  too.  Tardivel — 
the  young  miscreant ! — would  be  arrested  and  the  whole 
affair  would  be  public  property.  The  counter  attack 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  157 

he  hoped  to  employ  against  the  father  was  thus  at  once 
rendered  ineffective. 

The  Baron  was  sitting  on  a  chair,  looking  down  at 
the  floor.  It  was  impossible  to  gather  what  he  was 
thinking,  but  Antoine  wondered  whether  he  regretted 
his  entry  into  that  night's  adventure. 

Suddenly  the  chemist  appeared  from  behind  the 
screen. 

"The  lady  is  not  touched  anywhere,"  he  announced. 
"Her  assailant  missed.  She  fainted  from  shock.  A 
little  restorative,  and  she  will  be  all  right."  He  mixed 
something  in  a  glass  and  disappeared  behind  the  screen 
again. 

Antoine  felt  a  tremendous  relief.  That  lightened  the 
business  a  good  deal.  He  exchanged  glances  with  the 
Baron  whose  face  also  was  suddenly  brighter. 

The  policeman,  who  had  been  looking  exceedingly 
grave,  seemed  if  anything  a  trifle  disappointed.  After 
an  interval  the  chemist  reappeared  and  said  that  the 
lady  was  now  in  a  fit  state  to  answer  questions.  The 
policeman,  with  an  air  of  great  importance,  went  behind 
the  screen.  They  heard  him  ask  for  particulars  of  the 
affair,  and  as  to  who  her  assailant  was. 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you,"  came  the  voice  of  Yolande, 
now  very  quiet  and  gentle.  "I  do  not  know  who  he 
was.  It  was  a  strange  young  man — I  cannot  remem- 
ber his  face.  He  came  and  asked  me  for  money.  I  told 
him  I  had  none.  He  threatened  me.  I  told  him  to  go 
away.  Then  I  heard  a  shot — and  I  remembered  no 
more." 

Antoine  and  the  Baron  looked  at  each  other  in  amaze- 
ment. It  was  a  trait  in  the  character  of  La  Belle 
Yolande  they  would  not  have  suspected. 

Why  should  she  shield  him  in  this  fashion?  Antoine 
dwelt  on  the  problem,  while  the  voice  of  Yolande  and 


158       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

the  policeman  still  came  from  behind  the  screen.  The 
truth  came  into  his  head  in  a  flash.  .  .  .  But,  of 
course,  that  was  it.  Even  La  Belle  Yolande  could  not 
suffer  the  odium  of  such  a  story.  A  young  man  ruins 
himself,  cheats  at  cards,  in  order  to  find  her  money — 
and  then  because  he  has  not  been  successful,  she  sends 
him  away  with  every  mark  of  disdain.  No  wonder  she 
had  made  the  swift  decision  to  keep  quiet.  Why  in 
such  a  case  a  Paris  jury  would  sympathize  openly  with  ' 
the  young  man.  He  would  be  instantly  acquitted,  amid 
warm  expressions  of  sympathy. 

But  again,  if  La  Belle  Yolande  kept  quiet,  then  the 
story  would  be  Antoine's,  to  use  as  he  wished.  The 
weapon  he  had  looked  for  to  use  against  Tardivel  pere 
was  still  in  his  hands,  and,  as  a  result  of  the  -shot,  had 
become  more  powerful  than  ever  he  could  have  hoped. 

The  policeman  came  out  from  behind  the  screen,  his 
notebook  open  in  his  hand. 

"Messieurs,  I  shall  require  your  names  and  addresses, 
in  case  there  are  developments  of  any  kind." 

"You  understand  that  we  are  really  quite  strangers 
to  the  affair,  and  have  no  desire  to  be  mixed  up  in  it  in 
any  way,"  said  the  Baron. 

"All  the  same,  Monsieur,  it  will  be  necessary." 

The  Baron  handed  over  his  card.  The  policeman 
was  much  impressed  as  he  read  it,  and  became  voluble  on 
the  spot. 

"It  is  most  unlikely,  Monsieur  le  Baron,  that  you 
will  be  troubled  further  in  any  way.  The  lady  has  no 
idea  as  to  who  the  man  was — or  so  she  says.  At  any 
rate,  she  seems  quite  disinclined  to  pursue  the  matter. 
I  shall  see  her  to  her  residence,  as  is  my  duty,  and  there 
I  have  little  doubt  the  matter  will  end." 

"If  you  wish  you  may  use  the  taxicab  that  is  now  at 
the  door,"  said  the  Baron.  "And  here  is  something  for 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  159 

the  fare.  ...  I  trust  the  lady  will  soon  be  quite  well 
again." 

The  policeman  saluted  most  smartly,  and  did  not 
'bother  Antoine  for  his  name.  They  pushed  out 
through  the  crowd,  explained  the  situation  to  the  chauf- 
feur, on  whom  the  Baron  bestowed  a  liberal  tip,  and 
walked  away  down  the  street. 

"Pouf!  I  am  glad  that  is  over,"  exclaimed  the 
Baron.  "And  now  what  do  you  think  of  the  situation. 
Is  it  good  or  bad?" 

"But  excellent."      And  Antoine  began  to  explain. 

"Pardon  for  one  moment,"  interrupted  the  Baron. 
He  looked  at  his  watch.  "One  o'clock.  After  all  that 
excitement  I  think  we  have  earned  our  supper.  Let  us 
go  to  Maxim's,  and  we  can  talk  it  over  there." 


VII 


THE  attack  on  La  Belle  Yolande  caused  a  considerable 
sensation  in  Paris.  The  accounts  of  it  that  appeared 
in  the  newspapers  varied  in  a  remarkable  degree.  This 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  victim  obstinately  refused 
to  be  interviewed,  and  so  the  newspapers  were  driven  to 
making  the  best  they  could  out  of  very  little  material. 
By  keeping  quiet,  indeed,  La  Belle  Yolande  received  a 
far  bigger  reclame  than  anything  she  might  have 
achieved  by  deliberate  self-advertisement. 

One  or  two  newspapers,  making  a  shrewd  guess, 
boldly  asserted  that  the  aftentat  had  been  made  by  a 
discarded  admirer.  Others  stuck  to  the  story  that  she 
had  been  the  victim  of  a  prowling  apache,  who  had  been 
bold  enoug'h  to  carry  out  his  nefarious  work  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  Boulevards. 


160      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Antoine  chuckled  to  see  that  Le  Jour  was  one  of  the 
newspapers  which  inclined  to  the  theory  that  the  out- 
rage was  due  to  some  admirer,  young  or  old,  suffering 
from  the  pangs  of  jealous  or  unrequited  love.  It 
showed  conclusively  that  Tardivel  pere  was  a  stranger 
to  his  son's  liaison.  The  shock  when  he  heard  the 
truth  would  therefore  be  all  the  greater. 

And  one  result  of  Yolande's  singular  wish  to  avoid 
publicity — extraordinary  indeed  in  the  case  of  a  popu- 
lar revue  "star" — was  that  Paris  had  a  keen  desire  to 
know  what  was  behind  this  little  affair,  and  who  really 
was  the  man.  The  public  was  always  interested  in 
La  Belle  Yolande,  and  this  was  much  more  palpitating 
than  the  mere  periodical  disappearance  of  her  jewels. 

All  this  mystery  and  interest  strengthened  Antoine's 
hand,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  high  confidence  that 
he  wrote  a  letter  to  M.  Tardivel,  asking  politely  that 
he  might  see  him  on  the  day  following. 

In  the  meantime  he  had  been  anything  but  idle.  At 
the  earliest  possible  moment  he  had  put  Durand  on  the 
track  of  young  Tardivel.  Twenty-four  hours  later 
Durand  sent  a  telegram  from  Geneva.  It  said  in  a 
spontaneous  and  amusing  cypher  which  Antoine  had 
no  difficulty  in  understanding,  that  the  quarry  was 
staying  there  at  a  small  hotel  under  the  name  of  Law- 
rence and  that,  until  further  orders,  wherever  he  went 
Durand  would  follow  him. 

M.  Tardivel's  courteous  reply  to  Antoine's  letter  was 
received  within  a  few  hours. 

So  that  on  the  afternoon  following  Antoine  once 
more  found  himself  sitting  near  M.  Tardivel's  big 
desk,  and  smoking  another  of  his  excellent  cigars. 
M.  Tardivel  was  as  urbane  and  good  humored  as 
before.  Again  Antoine  felt  a  certain  difficulty  in  real- 
izing what  sinister  impulses  lay  behind  that  smooth 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  161 

manner.  But  that  disappeared  the  moment  M.  Tardivel 
dropped  generalities  and,  in  his  own  peculiar  fashion, 
came  down  to  business. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  decided  to  see  me  again 
before  the  week  was  up,"  he  said  with  his  friendly 
smile.  "I  presume,  M.  Poiret,  that  you  have  seen 
your  way  to  fall  in  with  my  suggestion?" 

"On  the  contrary." 

Antoine's  confident  tone,  as  much  as  the  matter  of 
what  he  said,  caused  M.  Tardivel  considerable  aston- 
ishment. 

"Then  do  I  understand  that  you  wish  me  to  proceed 
at  once  to  extremes?"  His  tone  was  slightly  acid. 
The  iron  hand  was  peeping  out  rather  soon. 

"That  is  as  you  wish.  But  if  you  do  I  am  sure 
you  will  be  very  sorry  for  it.  May  I  ask  you  if  you 
read  'The  Notes  of  the  Day'  in  La  Lumiere  yester- 
day? I  see  you  did  not.  Then  perhaps  you  will  cast 
your  >eyes  over  this  paragraph?"  And  before  the  as- 
tonished eyes  of  the  powerful  director  of  Le  Jour  An- 
toine  placed  a  few  lines  of  print  neatly  pasted  on  to  a 
piece  of  paper. 

The  joke  of  having  his  own  methods  applied  to  him 
did  not  seem  to  strike  M.  Tardivel  as  amusing.  Then 
he  looked  at  the  paragraph  and  read: 

"The  truth  that  lies  behind  the  mysterious  at- 
tack on  a  certain  well-known  actress  of  the  lighter 
stage  would  startle  Paris  could  it  but  know  the 
full  story.  And  especially  would  it  disturb  a 
notable  Boulevard  personality  whose  cynical  ex- 
ploitation of  other  people's  private  affairs  seems 
to  close  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  errors  may  be 
committed  very  near  home." 

There  was  a  steely  glitter  in  M.  Tardivel's  eyes  as 


162       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

he  looked  at  Antoine.  His  mouth  was  hard  set,  and 
the  mask  of  good  humor  had  disappeared  completely. 

"I  fail  to  see  what  connection  this  has  with  me,"  he 
said  harshly. 

"It  has  a  very  intimate  and  personal  connection 
with  you,"  said  Antoine  easily.  "And  without  em- 
ploying your  own  elegant  rhodomontade  I  will  give 
you  an  outline  of  the  story  that  lies  behind  the  mys- 
tery of  La  Belle  Yolande.  It  concerns  your  son.  For 
some  time  past  he  has  been  infatuated  with  this  siren. 
He  could  not  obtain  sufficient  money  from  you  for  her 
needs.  In  order  to  acquire  this  money  he  cheated  at 
cards  and  was  expelled  ignominiously  from  one  of  the 
best  clubs  in  Paris.  As  another  desperate  measure  he 
frequented  gambling  'hells  and  lost  there  whatever 
money  remained  to  him.  Infuriated  by  the  reproaches 
and  the  attitude  of  La  Belle  Yolande  he  shot  at  her — 
how  he  managed  to  miss  I  don't  know.  But  I  do  know 
several  people  who  were  witnesses  of  the  affair.  He  has 
fled  Paris — you  probably  know  that  he  has  disap- 
peared— and  at  the  present  moment  I  have  a  trusted 
friend  watching  his  hiding  place.  Those  are  the  main 
facts  behind  the  mystery  of  the  attack  on  La  Belle 
Yolande  ...  I  hope  they  interest  you.  They  would 
certainly  interest  the  police." 

Antoine  spoke  slowly  and  incisively.  The  change 
that  came  over  his  antagonist's  face  as  he  proceeded 
was  startling.  As  M.  Tardivel  had  so  often  smilingly 
asserted,  every  man  was  vulnerable  somewhere.  And 
the  cynical  old  scoundrel  had  his  own  weak  spot.  He 
knew  his  son  was  a  scapegrace,  but  he  loved  him. 
The  revelation — he  knew  it  was  true  as  he  listened  to 
Antoine — overwhelmed  him.  The  blow  went  home  with 
crushing  force. 

By  the  time  Antoine  had  finished  M.  Tardivel's  face 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  163 

was  pale  and  haggard.  Gone  was  every  trace  of  that 
smiling  self-confidence,  that  jaunty  but  ruthless  power 
which  had  so  angered  and  appalled  Antoine  at  their 
first  meeting.  Suddenly  he  dropped  his  head  down 
•and  covered  his  face  with  his  hand. 

"Mon  pauvre  Gaston — mon  pauvre  petit  Gaston" 
Antoine  heard  him  murmur.  Antoine's  triumph  was 
complete.  But  he  found  it  in  his  heart  to  be  sorry  for 
the  old  man  who  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  had  felt 
the  heavy  hand  of  another,  and  that  through  his  son. 

Then  M.  Tardivel,  with  a  supreme  effort,  pulled 
himself  together  and  walked  to  his  private  cabinet.  He 
drew  from  it  the  drawer  Antoine  had  seen  before, 
brought  it  back  to  his  desk,  and  took  out  the  envelope 
bearing  Antoine's  name,  and  without  a  word  handed  it 
over. 

"One  moment,"  said  Antoine,  and  reaching  over  he 
deftly  abstracted  the  packet  that  lay  next  to  it  and 
placed  it  in  his  pocket.  "I  wish  to  return  this  to  the 
person  it  concerns." 

M.  Tardivel  looked  dumbly  at  him,  but  did  not 
move.  Then  an  audacious  idea  came  to  Antoine.  Be- 
hind M.  Tardivel's  big  desk  a  bright  fire  was  burning 
in  an  open  grate.  Swiftly  picking  up  the  whole 
drawer  he  ran  across  to  the  fire  and  with  one  twist 
emptied  out  that  store  of  unhappy  secrets — the  stealthy 
records  of  men  who  at  some  time  in  their  lives  had 
stepped  aside  for  a  moment  from  the  straight  and 
narrow  path. 

There  came  a  strangled  cry  from  M.  Tardivel.  As 
'Antoine  faced  him  again  the  frantic  man  made  a  rush 
for  the  fireplace,  but  Antoine  held  him  back  firmly. 
And  together  they  watched  the  bonfire. 

Antoine  stirred  it  with  his  foot,  so  that  the  flames 
licked  up  again  with  a  rush. 


164s       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"See  all  those  unhappy  secrets  escaping  up  the  chim- 
ney," he  said.  "Your  son's  goes  with  them.  .  .  . 
And  there  is  a  maxim  for  life,  M.  Tardivel,  which  I 
like  better  than  yours.  It  is  very  bourgeois  and  simple 
— live  and  let  live.  I  trust  you  will  be  able  to  adopt  it." 

And  picking  up  his  hat  Antoine  went  out. 


VII 


The  same  evening  he  sat  again  with  the  Baron  at 
dinner.  The  Baron  was  holding  some  faded  yellow 
letters  in  his  hand. 

"And  to  think,"  he  said,  "that  this  was  the  secret 
he  was  holding  over  my  head — this  little  episode  of 
youth.  I  was  about  the  same  age  as  young  Tardivel 
then.  And  she — well  she  was  as  beautiful  and  cruel  as 
La  Belle  Yolande — more  so.  But  I  did  not  shoot  her. 
No!  I  threatened  to  shoot  myself.  I  wrote  the  most 
impassioned,  the  most  desperate,  the  most  wildly  im- 
ploring letters  that  youth  ever  penned.  It  is  all  down 
here,  in  faded  black  and  white.  I  read  them  an  hour 
ago,  and  I  was  amazed.  Enfin,  I  was  very  young." 

The  Baron  looked  at  his  glass  for  a  moment,  and 
seemed  to  be  following  the  bubbles  that  were  rising  in 
the  golden  wine. 

"I  was  quite  sure  that  I  should  never  get  over  it 
then  .  .  .  But  Time  has  its  compensations.  I  had 
forgotten  most  of  that  episode,  but  the  letters  have 
brought  it  all  back.  I  would  not  part  with  them  for 
anything  now.  Bless  that  dear  and  sinister  old  man 
for  preserving  them  .  .  .  Some  years  later,  by  the  way, 
she  married  the  manager  of  a  second-class  touring 
company.  I  believe  she  now  looks  after  the  wardrobe 


BLACKMAIL  FOR  TWO  165 

at  a  small  theatre  in  Marseilles  .  .  .  Ah  me!  Qtielle 
chienne  de  vie!" 

Antoine  was  silent. 

The  Baron  looked  at  his  glass  again,  and  this  time 
emptied  it. 

"I  assure  you,  mon  cher  Poiret,  life  becomes  much 
more  amusing  as  you  get  old.  You  must  come  to  my 
next  supper." 


CHAPTER  Y 

THE    STUDIO    IN    THE    RUE    TAETAEIN 


THE  Directors  of  La  Lumiere  sat  in  council. 

"II  n'y  a  pas  a  dire,"  said  Antoine.  "The  paper  is 
dull.  It  is  true  that  all  the  others  just  now  are  also 
dull.  But  cannot  we  find  something  out  of  the  common? 
Morissot,  will  politics  give  us  nothing?" 

"Bah !"  exclaimed  Morissot.  "There  is  nothing  more 
to  write  about.  I  have  attacked  this  Cabinet  until  I 
am  sick.  They  have  not  even  the  energy  to  lose  their 
tempers.  I  have  heaped  odium  on  them — and  they  do 
not  respond.  One  cannot  fight  with  a  jelly  fish  ... 
It  is  disheartening." 

Antoine's  eyes  twinkled. 

"And  yet  less  than  a  month  ago  you  forced  a  Min- 
ister to  resign  his  portfolio." 

"True — but  he  was  a  poor  thing.  He  ought  never 
to  have  been  even  in  this  Cabinet." 

Antoine  fingered  his  little  pointed  beard. 

"And  you,  Bourdot.  Does  the  world  of  Society  give 
us  nothing  out  of  the  common?  Are  there  no  scan- 
dals?" 

"But  little,  I  fear.  It  is  the  dull  season.  There  is  a 
duel  coming  off  shortly  between  the  Comte  de  Chan- 
clair  and  the  husband  of  a  lady  to  whom  he  has  been 
paying  the  warmest  attentions." 

166 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  167 

"Oh,  but  the  Count  makes  a  hobby  of  duels  of  that 
kind." 

"True  .  :.    .  There  is  nothing  else  that  I  know  of." 

"It  is  incredible — Paris  without  a  scandal.  Can  it 
be,  Morissot,  that  your  campaign  for  national  purity 
'has  at  last  taken  effect  and  that  life  henceforth  is  to 
be  perfectly  good,  but  quite  dull?" 

"Heaven  forbid!"  said  Morissot. 

"There  is  of  course  the  old  scandal  of  the  streets," 
said  Bourdot.  "It  is  always  with  us,  but  it  is  getting 
even  worse.  You  have  seen  the  huge  hole  they  are  now 
digging  in  front  of  the  Opera?  They  are  erecting 
cranes,  steam  boilers,  Heaven  knows  what,  and  all  this 
in  the  busiest  and  most  prominent  crossing  in  Paris. 
The  traffic  there  ties  itself  into  knots  and  cannot  get 
out  again.  Yesterday  in  a  cab  it  took  me  twelve  min- 
utes to  cross  the  road  there." 

"True,  it  is  villainous,"  put  in  Morissot.  "The 
Place  de  la  Concorde  looks  like  Switzerland.  Paris 
ought  to  lay  itself  out  to  attract  those  English  people 
who  go  mountaineering.  It  is  the  same  all  over  the 
city — ditches  and  holes,  boilers  and  palisades,  cliffs 
and  ravines.  My  own  street  has  been  'up'  for  five 
months,  and  nobody  knows  why.  No  work  is  ever  done 
there."  Morissot  was  rapidly  working  himself  up  into 
a  passion.  "Occasionally  I  see  a  workman  eating  his 
dinner,  and  that  is  all.  He  has  a  nice  comfortable 
shed  to  live  in,  and  a  fire  to  keep  him  warm.  Perhaps 
he  will  never  shift,  and  I  shall  never  be  able  to  get  a 
cab  to  my  door.  If  he  decides  to  stop  in  my  street  for- 
ever, who  is  there  to  prevent  him?  Answer  me  that!" 

Antoine  shook  with  laughter  at  Morissot's  rapidly 
mounting  indignation. 

"Tiens,  but  that  is  a  droll  idea — a  workman  stop- 
ping there  in  his  little  house  forever — a  sort  of  hermit 


168       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

of  the  streets.  It  would  be  a  jolly  life.  I  should 
like  it." 

"But  it  is  really  no  joke,"  Morissot  went  on. 
"Somebody  drives  two  stakes  into  the  ground,  throws 
a  rope  across  a  street,  puts  up  a  notice  'Rue  Barree* 
and  there  you  are.  Nobody  knows  why  it  is  barred. 
Vegetables  might  grow  on  the  pavement,  rabbits  might 
disport  themselves  in  the  road  and  it  would  not  be  sur- 
prising. And  so  the  inhabitants  remain  for  months, 
even  years,  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  humanity  by  a 
notice  board  in  the  daytime  and  a  red  lamp  at  night. 
And  this  is  going  on  all  over  Paris." 

Allowing  for  a  certain  exaggeration  which  was 
natural  to  him,  Morissot's  description  of  the  streets 
of  Paris  was  a  fairly  accurate  one.  For  the  past  year 
or  so  a  sort  of  street  rash  seemed  to  have  broken  out 
in  the  city.  Everywhere  were  to  be  found  excavations 
and  heaps  of  rubbish,  with  ugly  palisading  and  often 
huge  chantiers,  or  sheds,  in  which  the  workmen  con- 
ducted their  operations.  Many  of  these  were  tucked 
away  in  side  streets,  where  nobody  but  those  immedi- 
ately concerned  noticed  them.  But  others  were  erected 
in  the  busiest  or  even  most  beautiful  spots  in  Paris, 
and  tourists  who  had  come  from  afar  to  see  La  Ville 
Lumiere  gazed  at  famous  buildings  through  a  haze 
of  steam  and  smoke  from  puffing  boilers. 

Latterly  the  plague  had  got  worse  than  ever. 
Streets  were  ripped  up,  relaid,  ripped  up  again  and 
left.  No  doubt  there  was  some  reason  behind  most 
of  these  disembowelings  and  eruptions,  but  it  was  hard 
to  find.  The  Press  had  kept  up  a  running  fire  of  sar- 
casm, but  this  had  produced  no  effect.  It  needed 
something  very  drastic  to  bring  the  City  Fathers  to 
their  senses.  So  far  this  had  not  been  done. 

"If  we  could  only  hit  on  a  really  good  idea  to  bring 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  169 

out  the  ridiculous  side  of  this,  Paris  would  be  really 
grateful,"  said  Antoine  after  some  further  conversa- 
tion. "The  difficulty  is  to  focus  general  attention  on 
a  plague  which  everybody  is  more  or  less  getting 
used  to." 

He  stroked  his  little  beard  and  thought  hard,  a  far- 
away look  in  his  eyes.  Suddenly  his  features  wrinkled 
up  in  a  merry  smile.  A  chuckle  escaped  him,  and  then 
he  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  his  hands  to  his  sides,  and 
laughed  long  and  heartily  at  the  idea  that  had  come 
to  him. 

"You  have  evidently  struck  something  good,"  said 
Morissot  when  Antoine's  merriment  had  subsided. 
"What  is  it?  We  are  impatient  to  hear." 

"It  is  a  beautiful  idea,"  chuckled  Antoine,  wiping 
ihis  eyes.  "Listen.  ..."  But  another  laugh  bubbled 
up,  and  he  relapsed  into  his  secret  joy  again. 

"del!"  cried  Bourdot.  "What  is  all  this  about? 
Quick !  We  cannot  sit  here  looking  on  while  you  enj  oy 
it  all  alone." 

"Patience,  my  friends.  You  shall  know  as  soon  as 
I  can  tell  you,"  and,  his  words  interrupted  by  chuckles 
of  merriment,  Antoine  very  briefly  outlined  his  plan. 

"Superb!  But  it  is  a  stroke  of  genius,"  cried  Bour- 
dot when  they  had  heard  it.  "Oh,  how  my  Duchesses 
will  laugh.  I  shall  have  to  tell  the  story  again  and 
again.  They  will  point  out  how  this  sort  of  thing 
can  only  happen  under  a  Republic.  And  won't  the 
poor  suffering  public  enjoy  it!" 

Morissot  in  his  different  way  was  also  enthusiastic. 
And  Antoine  was  still  emitting  little  trills  of  laughter 
as  they  went  out  to  lunch  to  talk  the  matter  over  more 
fully. 


170       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 


II 


"THE  point  is  to  choose  a  really  suitable  street,"  said 
Antoine  over  the  coffee.  "It  must  be  of  good  tone, 
quiet,  and  yet  in  the  heart  of  the  town.  And  not  too 
long.  We  must  not  immobilize  a  whole  quarter  of 
Paris.  I  will  take  a  little  walk  this  afternoon  and  find 
the  thing  we  want." 

"But  it  must  be  a  street  which  will  cause  a  consid- 
erable dislocation  of  traffic  by  being  closed,"  said 
Morissot.  "Else  these  animals  of  City  Councillors  will 
not  see  the  point." 

"Exactly.  The  only  difficulty  I  foresee  is  in  getting 
the  workmen  necessary  to  build  the  chantier,  and  in 
making  them  think  they  really  are  working  for  the 
Municipal  Council.  However,  that  can  be  overcome. 
Perhaps  they  would  appreciate  the  joke." 

Bourdot  laughed  into  his  coffee. 

"Et  puis?" 

"And  then  Lemaire  comes  into  it.  The  shed  once 
finished,  all  complete,  with  a  good  north  light,  I  shall 
wire  him  to  say  that  I  have  a  splendid  studio  in  Paris 
at  my  disposal,  and  that  if  he  likes  to  come  and  use 
it  he  may.  Of  course,  he  will  fly  back  like  the  wind. 
He  is  dying  to  see  Paris  again." 

"By  the  way,  what  became  of  that  strange  being 
after  the  affair  of  La  Douloureuse?"  inquired  Morissot. 
"You  told  us  you  were  looking  after  him,  but  you 
did  not  say  how." 

"Lemaire  is  strange,  as  you  say,  but  he  is  a  good 
fellow.  He  agreed  to  put  himself  in  my  hands.  I 
sent  him  down  to  Brittany  to  sketch  and  paint  to  his 
heart's  content.  He  lives  at  a  little  pension  in  charge 
of  an  excellent  woman  I  know.  His  board  is  paid  for 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  171 

him,  and  I  allow  him  ten  francs  pocket  money  and  half 
a  bottle  of  absinthe  a  week.  A  doctor  who  saw  him 
said  that  it  was  better  not  to  try  and  break  him  from 
the  habit  altogether.  I  have  had  the  best  reports  of 
him.  He  does  not  even  drink  his  half  bottle  now,  and 
is  much  better  in  every  way.  .  .  >  But  he  is  pining 
for  Paris." 

"And  you  think  he  will  do  what  you  want?" 

"Do  it !  He  is  all  on  fire  to  serve  me.  More  than 
that,  the  idea  will  appeal  to  him.  He  will  dance  with 
joy.  To  live  in  a  commodious  studio  in  the  middle  of 
a  Paris  street — a  studio  with  a  beautiful  big  north 
light,  and  with  every  convenience — to  live  there  calmly 
and  peacefully,  far  from  the  noise  of  traffic  and  yet 
with  the  Boulevards  only  a  moment  away — oh,  but  he 
will  regard  it  as  Heaven.  He  will  paint  as  he  has  never 
painted  before.  Since  the  dawn  of  time  no  artist  will 
have  had  such  a  studio  .  .  >  and  by  the  beard  of  the 
President,  he  shall  paint  a  picture  for  the  Salon. 
That  is  an  idea!  He  has  talent,  voyez  vous.  He  has 
exhibited  there  several  times.  .  .  .  And  will  not  that 
tickle  Paris — a  picture  painted  for  the  Salon  in  a  street 
chantier  erected  by  La  Lumiere!  Oh,  we  will  make 
these  ancient  City  Fathers  sit  up  .  .  >  and  in  the 
meantime  we  will  run  a  hot  campaign  on  the  disgrace- 
ful eruptions  of  the  streets.  We  will  point  out  that  it 
is  open  to  anybody  to  put  up  a  board  or  a  red  lamp, 
build  a  hut  and  make  a  street  his  own.  .  .  .  Oh,  but 
we  will  have  some  fun  with  them.  Wait  until  Paris 
hears  the  story." 

"They  may  send  us  all  to  jail  for  it,"  said  Morissot. 

"It  will  be  worth  it.  We  shall  be  martyrs.  You 
will  have  a  statue,  Morissot." 

"With  an  inscription:  'He  was  the  foe  of  Cabinet 
Ministers  and  all  other  scoundrels,' "  said  Bourdot. 


172       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"If  the  studio  is  to  be  as  comfortable  as  you  say, 
I  shall  write  some  of  my  political  articles  there,"  said 
Morissot. 

"And  I  will  invite  some  of  my  Duchesses  to  tea," 
added  Bourdot. 

And  the  three  Directors  went  on  laughing  and  joking 
ia  the  very  best  of  good  humors. 

Antoine  went  off  alone  on  his  quest  for  a  suitable 
site  for  the  studio.  He  found  exactly  what  he  wanted 
in  the  Rue  Tartarin,  a  short  but  dignified  street  run- 
ning off  the  luxurious  and  populous  Rue  Royale.  It 
was  thus  in  the  heart  of  Paris,  and  in  the  very  best 
quarter. 

The  Rue  Tartarin  contained  some  excellent  shops, 
and  also  a  very  well-known  restaurant,  Boulanger's, 
famous  for  oysters. 

"It  could  not  be  better,"  said  Antoine  to  himself,  as 
he  strolled  along.  "Boulanger  will  be  furious — every 
•client  will  have  to  get  out  and  walk.  But  he  will 
know  it  is  no  use  protesting.  One  must  expect  this 
sort  of  thing  in  Paris.  And  if  Lemaire  is  fond  of 
oysters  he  could  not  be  better  placed."  He  laughed 
so  heartily  to  himself  that  people  turned  round  to 
look  at  him. 

Antoine  sauntered  back  to  the  office  to  report  on 
his  choice. 

"It  is  daring,"  said  Bourdot,  thinking  of  the  stream 
of  cabs  and  motor  cars  that  rolled  up  to  Boulanger's 
every  evening. 

"Ah,  bah!  We  must  have  the  best,"  said  Antoine. 
"Is  La  Lumiere  to  be  content  with  a  small  back  street? 
Ten  thousand  times  no!  This  affair  to  succeed  must 
be  chic.  I  thought  for  a  moment  of  taking  the  Rue  de 
la  Paix.  But  I  am  afraid  that  even  in  Paris  we  should 
be  discovered  before  the  studio  was  more  than  half 


built.  The  shopkeepers  there  would  raise  such  a  howl 
that  somebody  would  have  to  take  notice  of  them." 

"Antoine  Poiret,  stealer  of  streets,"  murmured 
Morissot.  "It  will  sound  well  in  the  Assize  Court." 

"We  should  make  a  very  attractive  trio  in  the  dock," 
said  Antoine.  "But  nobody  would  dare  to  prosecute. 
It  would  be  funnier  than  any  farce  ever  seen  at  the 
Palais  Royal" 


III 

THE  building  of  the  studio  proved  to  be  a  more  deli- 
cate matter  to  arrange  than  Antoine  had  imagined.  A 
number  of  tentative  efforts  showed  him  that  he  would 
have  to  walk  very  warily  indeed.  The  scheme  would 
collapse  at  the  beginning  if  the  slightest  wind  of  the 
enterprise  got  abroad. 

Chance  favored  him  when  it  seemed  as  though  the 
most  careful  and  discreet  strategy  must  fail.  A  cer- 
tain individual  named  Grosjean,  a  building  contractor 
in  a  small  way,  had  recently  taken  up  the  question  o£ 
the  lack  of  accommodation  for  the  housing  of  the 
working  classes.  He  had  received  a  number  of  fami- 
lies under  his  protection,  and  with  a  following  of 
horny-handed  toilers,  their  wives,  a  plentiful  supply 
of  young  children  and  a  small  supply  of  furniture, 
had  started  out  on  various  pilgrimages  round  Paris 
to  find  shelter  for  his  brood. 

The  adventures  of  Monsieur  Grosjean,  who  was  an 
excellent  man  at  heart,  if  a  little  peculiar  in  his  meth- 
ods of  propaganda,  had  been  many  and  various.  He 
had  taken  possession  of  empty  houses,  and  been  ejected 
from  them  by  the  police  at  the  instance  of  outraged 
landlords.  On  one  cold  winter's  night,  with  a  follow- 


ing  of  about  forty,  of  all  ages,  he  had  boldly  invaded 
a  police  station.  The  police  were  taken  completely  by 
surprise,  and  once  in  the  cozy  interior,  with  his  charges 
grouped  round  a  cheery  stove,  Grosjean  had  dared  the 
police  to  turn  them  out  into  the  street.  After  a  great 
deal  of  heated  argument,  in  which  Grosjean  came  off 
anything  but  second  best,  the  police  officials  surren- 
dred  to  the  extent  of  allowing  the  Grosjean  family  to 
stop  there  the  night.  And  on  another  occasion  a  kind- 
hearted  Duke,  meeting  the  Grosjean  procession  in  a 
street  off  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  had  given  all  of 
them  food  and  shelter  for  the  night  in  his  commodious 
mansion  and  provided  their  leader  with  a  sum  of  money 
to  help  in  his  campaign. 

The  idea  of  invoking  the  aid  of  Grosjean  came  to 
Antoine  as  a  happy  flash  of  inspiration.  He  immedi- 
ately sent  out  Durand,  investigator  of  crimes  and  mys- 
teries, and  ambassador  extraordinary  in  many  delicate 
affairs  of  La  Lumiere,  to  get  in  touch  with  this  prac- 
tical but  embarrassing  philanthropist. 

Durand  returned  with  Grosjean  within  two  hours, 
and  Antoine  was  soon  deep  in  conversation  with  the  vis- 
itor. Grosjean  was  a  portly  little  man,  with  eyes  that 
twinkled  with  kindliness  and  good  humor.  But  it  was 
quite  evident  that  he  was  immensely  serious  on  the 
subject  nearest  his  heart. 

"You  and  I,  Monsieur  Grosjean,  are  in  a  sense 
brothers,  if  I  may  say  so,"  began  Antoine.  "We  are 
both  fighting  against  the  stupidity  and  short-sighted- 
ness of  officialdom.  The  bureaucrat  and  the  jack-in- 
office,  swathed  in  red  tape,  are  our  common  enemies." 

The  eyes  of  the  visitor  lit  up  with  joy  at  the  sound 
of  these  splendid  and  inspiring  phrases. 

"Alas,  that  there  are  so  few  like  us,  Monsieur.  You 
cannot  conceive  the  difficulties  with  which  I  have  to 


*. 
THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  175 

contend.  Would  you  believe  that  only  two  days  ago  a 
landlord  denounced  me  as  a  cunning  rascal  and  a  dan- 
gerous person — I,  whose  sole  wish  is  to  provide  happi- 
ness for  others.  And  this  simply  because  I  was  just 
about  to  take  possession  of  a  house  that  was  empty!" 

"C'est  incroyable!  M.  Grosjean,  I  am  convinced 
that  you  are  the  man  to  help  me  in  a  certain  scheme 
which  will  make  all  Parisians  happier."  And  as  briefly 
as  possible  Antoine  described  the  work  he  wanted  done. 

"It  is  against  the  law,"  said  Grosjean,  when  he  had 
heard. 

"But  surely  you  are  the  last  person  to  care  for  that ! 
You  take  possession  of  houses  which  belong  to  rapa- 
cious landlords.  May  I  not  for  a  little  time  take  pos- 
session of  a  street  which  is  free  to  all?" 

"True.  As  for  me  I  care  little  for  the  law.  What- 
ever they  do  to  me  will  only  advertise  my  cause.  But 
tell  me,  Monsieur — how  will  your  scheme  'help  our 
fellow-men?" 

"Parbleu!  It  will  make  Paris  a  happier  city,  and 
that  is  what  we  are  both  striving  for,  is  it  not?  You  in 
one  way,  I  in  another.  I  will  admit  that  of  the  two 
your  cause  is  the  grander,  the  more  noble.  But  I  also 
in  my  humble  way  wish  to  do  good.  We  are  both 
enemies  of  the  same  scourge.  The  lack  of  care  and 
foresight,  which  makes  it  necessary  for  you  to  search 
for  lodgings  for  your  proteges  is  responsible  also 
for  this  plague  of  eruptions  and  excavations  in  our 
streets,  for  this  ceaseless  ravaging  of  peaceful  and  in- 
offensive thoroughfares.  The  money  which  is  spent  on 
causing  the  one  evil  could  be  far  better  spent  on  abol- 
ishing the  other.  Is  it  not  so?" 

"But  evidently,  Monsieur.  You  state  the  case  most 
eloquently  and  convincingly." 

"Then  if  you  do  this  work  for  me  you  shall  be  paid 


176       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

half  in  advance;  you  shall  be  guaranteed  against  any 
legal  expenses  that  may  follow,  and  in  addition  you 
shall  have  two  thousand  francs  for  the  cause  you 
have  so  much  at  heart.  Is  it  agreed,  M.  Grosjean?" 

"It  is  agreed,  and  willingly,  Monsieur.  You  are 
most  generous.  ...  I  will  not  hide  from  you  the  fact 
that  of  late  my  business  has  considerably  suffered. 
This  work  comes  at  a  most  convenient  moment." 

"Then  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  start  at  once. 
In  my  name  you  will  take  possession  of  the  Rue  Tar- 
tarin  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  You  will  under- 
stand, M.  Grosjean,  that  discretion  is  vital.  But  a 
little  audacity,  also,  works  wonders.  It  is  the  first 
step  that  counts." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"At  one  end  of  the  street  you  drive  in  two  stakes, 
stretch  a  rope  across  and  hang  on  it  a  board  with  the 
legend,  'Rue  Barree.'  That  is  a  sacred  phrase  in  Paris. 
Nobody  questions  it,  not  even  the  President  of  the  Re- 
public. At  the  other  end  of  the  street  you  do  the  same. 
From  that  moment  the  street  is  ours,  and  we  may  go 
on  with  the  work  in  all  tranquillity." 

"It  is  enough,  Monsieur.  You  shall  have  drawings 
and  an  estimate  for  the  building  this  very  evening. 
And  I  will  be  discretion  itself.  Perhaps  it  will  be  as 
well  for  me  not  to  appear  too  prominently  in  the 
matter.  Many  of  the  police  know  me  only  too  well 
by  now.  But  I  have  an  excellent  foreman,  who  will 
go  on  with  the  work  with  every  confidence.  He  will 
be  quite  under  the  impression  that  it  is  being  done  for 
the  City  of  Paris." 

"C'est  parfait,  M.  Grosjean." 

"Aii  'voir  et  merci,  Monsieur."  And  the  kindly  pro- 
tector of  the  poor  hurried  off  to  put  the  work  into 
execution,  his  eyes  agleam  with  excitement. 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  177 

IV 

THE  chief  danger  of  discovery  in  the  building  of  the 
studio  lay  in  the  rapidity  with  which  M.  Grosjean  had 
the  work  pushed  on. 

The  shopkeepers  of  the  Rue  Tartarin  were  intensely 
disgusted  when  they  found  that  they,  too,  were  to  be 
victims  of  the  rage  for  excavation.  But  they  were 
agreeably  surprised  at  the  celerity  with  which  the 
work,  in  its  early  stages  at  any  rate,  was  carried  out. 
It  was  generally  agreed  that  a  new  spirit  seemed  to 
have  come  into  civic  enterprise. 

Within  a  few  hours  after  seeing  Antoine,  M.  Gros- 
jean had  staked  out  his  claim.  Most  artistically  he, 
at  the  same  time,  had  a  few  square  yards  of  wood 
blocks  pulled  up,  and  a  brasier  planted  near  the  heap 
of  debris.  It  was  a  scene  to  satisfy  the  expert,  a  spot 
at  once  sacred  to  authority.  Nobody  from  that  moment 
would  have  dreamed  of  interfering  with  the  course  of 
operations. 

Within  a  week  the  studio  was  finished.  It  was  an 
unassuming  but  solid  structure  of  wood.  It  was  divided 
into  two  apartments — one  half  as  a  living  room  for 
Lemaire  and  the  other  as  his  studio.  This  latter  was 
provided  with  a  splendid  window,  and  no  artist  could 
desire  more  comfortable  quarters. 

At  various  times  the  Directors  of  La  Lumiere 
passed  down  the  Rue  Tartarin,  and  noted  with  much 
satisfaction  the  encouraging  progress  of  the  work. 
And  in  the  meantime  Antoine  made  full  arrangements 
for  Lemaire's  occupation. 

He  collected  a  camp  bed,  a  small  stove,  a  lamp,  a 
number  of  chairs  and  various  other  necessary  articles 
of  furniture.  Lemaire  came  back  to  Paris,  joyful  at 
his  release  from  exile.  His  eye  was  clear  and  his  color 


178       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

healthy.  He  was  not  the  same  man  whom  Antoine  had 
first  seen  bowed  down  by  the  weight  of  his  secret  pos- 
session of  La  Douloureuse  and  ravaged  by  his  over- 
indulgence in  absinthe. 

Lemaire  roared  with  delight  when  he  heard  what  was 
required  of  him. 

"Ah,  non,  mats  c*est  admirable!  I  will  paint  the  pic- 
ture of  my  life  there.  .  .  .  And  fancy  living  within 
one  minute  of  the  Boulevards  after  the  silence,  the  mel- 
ancholy of  Brittany!  But  I  promise  you  I  shall  be 
happy." 

"Then  get  your  things  together — your  easel  and 
whatever  other  little  affairs  you  will  require.  I  have 
collected  some  furniture  for  you.  Here  is  the  key  of 
the  studio.  You  are  free  of  one  of  the  most  desirable 
residences  in  Paris.  And  you  will  move  in  to-night." 

"An  hour's  preparation  and  I  am  ready." 

"There  are  one  or  two  little  points  to  be  mentioned. 
You  will  have  to  see  to  the  red  lamps  at  night — two  at 
each  end  of  the  street.  And  it  will  be  well  not  to  be 
seen  too  much  in  the  daytime.  When  you  do  come  out 
you  must  wear  the  rough  clothes  of  a  workman.  You 
will  be  able  to  keep  a  suit  of  clothes  elsewhere  to  change 
into,  when  you  wish  to  go  about  Paris.  .  .  .  You  do 
not  mind  this,  mon  ami?" 

"Not  in  the  slightest.  .  .  .  It  is  part  of  the  fun. 
And  do  I  not  owe  you  more  than  I  can  repay?" 

"Allans,  done!  That  is  nothing.  .  .  .  Then  you 
move  into  your  new  residence  to-night — at  midnight 
or  a  little  after  when  all  is  quiet.  Your  things  can  be 
packed  on  a  handcart.  I  have  a  man  who  will  take 
them.  If  the  matter  is  done  swiftly  and  with  confi- 
dence no  suspicion  will  be  excited.  And  once  in  posses- 
sion you  will  be  able  to  go  on  painting  your  picture 
without  fear  of  interruption." 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  179 

Shortly  after  midnight  Antoine  and  Bourdot  walked 
down  the  Boulevard  at  a  discreet  distance  behind  a 
handcart  piled  high  with  the  furniture  of  the  new 
home.  A  man  hired  for  the  occasion  pulled  the  cart, 
and  by  his  side  walked  Lemaire,  dressed  in  rough 
clothes 

The  handcart  turned  into  the  Rue  Tartarin.  Le- 
maire and  the  man  bent  to  pass  beneath  the  rope  that 
barred  the  street,  and  a  moment  later  Lemaire  was 
fitting  the  key  into  the  lock  of  his  dwelling.  A  police- 
man 'halting  at  the  corner  stood  to  look  for  a  moment 
at  what  was  happening,  and  passed  on. 

The  unloading  of  the  furniture  took  only  a  few 
minutes.  The  man  came  away  with  the  handcart,  and 
a  moment  or  so  later  Antoine  and  Bourdot  saw  the 
glimmer  of  a  light  through  the  studio  window. 

"He  is  installed,"  said  Antoine. 

"It  is  a  pity  we  cannot  have  a  housewarming,"  said 
Bourdot. 

They  walked  casually  down  the  pavement  past  the 
studio  and  could  hear  Lemaire  busying  himself  inside. 
He  was  whistling  a  cheerful  tune  to  himself.  It  was 
Mimi's  song  from  "La  Boheme." 

"That  will  never  do,"  said  Antoine.  "The  intelli- 
gent pedestrian  who  passed  here  at  midnight  and 
heard  snatches  of  grand  opera  from  a  chantier  would 
be  curious  immediately.  It  is  hardly  the  sort  of  thing 
one  expects  from  a  night  watchman.  .  .  .  I  will  tell 
him." 

Antoine  after  a  careful  look  round  stepped  to  the 
door  and  rapped.  The  door  opened  and  Lemaire's 
head  appeared. 

"Tiens,  c*est  vousf     Are  you  coming  in?" 

"No,  mon  ami.  But  softly  with  that  whistling.  Do 
you  realize  that  'La  Boheme'  is  hardly  the  sort  of 


music  that  a  workman  would  indulge  in?  Remember 
the  part  you  are  playing." 

"I  am  so  excited  I  could  sing  aloud.  The  smell  of 
Paris  again,  at  night — ah,  it  is  wonderful!" 

"It  is  a  charming  thought,  mon  ami,  but  you  must 
contain  your  transports.  Remember  discretion  is 
necessary." 

"You  are  right.  I  will  be  on  my  guard.  .  .  .  You 
are  sure  you  will  not  come  in?"  Lemaire  seemed  most 
anxious  to  play  the  host  in  his  new  residence. 

"Not  to-night.  Another  time.  And  do  not  forget 
the  lamps.  .  .  .  Bonne  nuit." 

"Bonne  nuit."    And  Lemaire  closed  his  door. 

Antoine  chuckled  as  he  rejoined  Bourdot. 

"Is  it  not  absurd!  There  is  Lemaire  settling  down 
for  tbe  night  in  his  habitation,  like  any  good  citizen. 
One  can  fancy  him  marrying  and  buying  a  piano,  and 
bringing  up  a  family  in  the  Rue  Tartarin.  It  will  be 
a  good  joke  if  it  is  not  spoiled.  And  now,  do  we  go 
soberly  home  to  bed  or  shall  we  celebrate  Lemaire's 
homecoming  by  having  some  supper?" 

"Supper  is  an  excellent  idea.  We  cannot  do  better 
than  go  over  the  way  to  Boulanger's.  It  will  be  some 
slight  atonement  for  the  trouble  our  scheme  will  cause 
him." 

They  found  the  main  room  well  filled  with  people 
supping  after  the  theatre.  They  ordered  their  own 
meal  and  discussed  the  people  present.  Most  of  them 
were  known  to  Bourdot  and  he  was  kept  busy  exchang- 
ing bows  and  smiles. 

Boulanger  himself  came  up  to  say  a  word  to  them. 
He  inquired  solicitously  as  to  the  supper  and  the  wine. 
And  then: 

"You  see  that  the  Rue  Tartarin  is  now  beleaguered 
— cut  off  from  the  rest  of  Paris.  You  have  seen  this 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  181 

structure  before  my  very  door?  In  a  week  or  two 
there  will  be  no  doubt  a  yawning  cavern.  Is  it  not  in- 
famous that  Paris  should  be  so  torn  about?" 

They  agreed  earnestly  that  he  was  right. 

"It  is  you,  Messieurs,  who  ought  to  stop  all  this. 
Only  the  Press  can  do  it.  Otherwise  there  will  soon 
not  be  a  street  to  walk  in." 

"We  are  doing  our  best,"  said  Antoine.  "Have  you 
not  seen  that  nearly  every  day  La  Lumiere  has  some- 
thing to  say  on  the  subject?  .  .  .  And  one  of  these 
days  Paris  will  hear  something  which  will  be  a  sur- 
prise, I  promise  you." 

"Ah!  excellent.  And  the  sooner  the  better."  And 
Boulanger  departed,  well  pleased. 

"Tiens,  look  who  comes  here,"  said  Bourdot  a  mo- 
ment later. 

It  was  none  other  than  the  Baron  Pex,  Antoine's 
companion  in  the  little  adventure  of  Monsieur  Tardivel. 
The  Baron  looked  slowly  round  the  room,  seemed  dis- 
appointed at  not  finding  somebody  for  whom  he  was 
seeking  and  sat  down  alone  at  a  table.  In  doing  so 
he  caught  sight  of  Antoine,  and  saluted  cordially. 
Antoine  went  over  at  once  to  shake  hands. 

Antoine  suggested  early  that  the  Baron  should  join 
them.  He  consented  readily. 

They  sat  there  till  late.  The  Baron  was  in  a  happy 
mood  and  talked  very  entertainingly.  More  wine  had 
been  brought,  and  as  he  sipped  it  Antoine's  heart 
warmed  strongly  to  the  Baron.  What  an  excellent 
friend  he  had  been  in  that  little  affair  of  blackmail! 

There  came  a  moment  when,  hardly  conscious  at 
first  of  what  he  was  saying,  Antoine  told  the  Baron 
of  the  little  surprise  he  was  preparing  for  Paris.  The 
Baron  listened  with  laughing  amazement,  and  roared 
with  delight  at  the  story. 


182      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"And  this  Lenaire,  he  is  there  now  in  that  building 
I  noticed  as  I  came  in?" 

"He  took  possession  only  an  hour  or  so  ago.  By 
now,  I  trust,  he  is  sleeping  peacefully  in  his  bed." 

"Name  of  a  name,  it  is  the  best  thing  I  have  heard 
for  years."  And  the  Baron  laughed  again,  until  the 
tears  came  to  his  eyes.  "But  there  will  be  trouble  some 
day.  Let  us  hope  the  authorities  will  see  the  fun  of  it 
as  keenly  as  I  do.  The  picture  will  cause  a  sensation 
at  the  Salon — if  it  is  ever  finished." 

They  parted  shortly  after,  and  the  Baron  prayed 
Antoine  to  keep  him  in  touch  with  the  developments  of 
the  plot. 

"Was  it  wise  to  tell  the  Baron,  do  you  think?"  asked 
Bourdot  a  few  moments  later  as  they  were  rolling  along 
in  a  taxicab. 

"Oh,  but  he  is  quite  safe.  You  heard  him  say  that 
he  would  not  mention  it  to  anybody.  .  .  .  And  think 
how  much  we  owe  to  him  in  that  little  affair  with  old 
Tardivel.  But  for  the  Baron,  mon  ami,  you  and  I 
would  have  long  ago  seen  the  last  of  La  Lumiere." 

"True.  But  the  Baron  enjoyed  the  joke  so  much. 
.  .  .  It  is  very  hard  to  keep  a  really  good  joke  to 
oneself." 


BOURDOT'S  remark,  as  it  proved,  was  almost  uncannily 
wise.  The  Baron  cherished  quite  a  warm  feeling  for 
Antoine  and  the  paper  which  he  had  been  instrumental 
in  saving.  He  was  also  a  man  of  honor.  But  while 
he  would  have  locked  the  secret  of  a  scandal  or  a  crime 
in  his  breast  as  within  a  casket  of  steel  the  joke  of  the 
Rue  Tartarin  proved  too  much  for  his  self-control. 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  183 

The  next  day  he  told  it — under  the  strictest  reserve 
of  secrecy — to  his  friend  Count  Giro  de  Bonauvent, 
complete  with  artist,  camp  bed,  picture  for  the  Salon 
and  the  rest.  And  before  the  afternoon  was  out  Count 
Giro  found  that  his  secret  tortured  him  so  much  that 
he  must,  for  the  sake  of  his  own  peace  of  mind,  impart 
it  to  the  Marquis  de  Rochenoir,  enjoining  him  at  the 
same  time  to  keep  the  strictest  privacy  in  the  matter. 
And  so  within  a  week,  to  the  accompaniment  of  a 
chorus  of  laughter,  the  story  traveled  all  round  the 
inner  and  most  exclusive  circle  of  le  Tout  Paris. 

It  gained  immeasurably  as  it  traveled.  A  perfectly 
appointed  bathroom  was  added  to  Lemaire's  household 
amenities,  his  humble  furniture  became  the  rarest  Louis 
Quinze,  and  as  for  his  painting  it  was  understood  that 
a  bevy  of  beautiful  models  sat  for  him  every  day  from 
ten  to  four,  reclining  luxuriously  on  tiger-skin  rugs. 

And  as  the  delirious  history  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  the  scene  of  this  remarkable  adventure,  as  un- 
accountably happens  in  these  cases,  flitted  about  from 
one  place  to  another. 

In  its  highly  improved  form  the  story  at  last  reached 
the  ears  of  Monsieur  Labiche,  Prefect  of  Police.  There 
was  very  little  in  the  way  of  gossip  or  scandal  which 
did  not  come  to  his  ears  sooner  or  later.  The  secret 
police  of  Paris  had  its  "agents"  in  every  quarter,  and 
in  every  possible  walk  of  life.  They  were  actuated  by 
all  sorts  of  motives,  and  only  a  small  proportion  of 
them  desired  money  for  their  services.  And  many  an 
indiscreet  chatterer  in  an  old-world  salon  would  have 
been  amazed  to  know  that  his  amusing  potins, 
amiable,  cynical  or  malicious,  were  not  many  hours 
later  in  the  keeping  of  the  head  of  the  police. 

Monsieur  Labiche  in  his  long  years  of  office  had 
heard  many  surprising  stories,  and  knew  as  well  as  any 


184       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

man  that  the  strangest  things  could  happen  in  Paris. 
But  he  flattered  himself  that  he  could  generally  dis- 
tinguish the  likely  from  the  impossible.  And  he  roared 
with  laughter  when  he  received  the  report  of  a  fan- 
tastic studio  somewhere  in  the  Champs  Elysees. 

"Listen  to  this,"  he  said  to  his  confidential  secre- 
tary. "Some  farceur  is  trying  to  make  fun  of  us." 
And  he  read  out  the  report.  The  Secretary  entered 
into  the  mood  of  his  chief  and  laughed  joyously  with 
him. 

"People  don't  do  that  sort  of  thing,  even  in  Paris," 
said  the  Prefect. 

But  he  began  to  think  differently  when,  in  quick 
succession,  reports  came  to  hand  of  luxurious  studios 
in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  the 
Avenue  de  la  Grande  Armee,  the  Quai  Voltaire,  the 
Place  de  1'Opera  and  other  quarters  of  the  city. 

"Tonnerre!"  he  exclaimed.  "Somebody  seems  to 
have  been  scattering  illicit  studios  out  of  a  balloon. 
But  there  is  evidently  one  somewhere.  This  must  be 
seen  to." 

The  Prefect  was  one  of  those  rare  public  servants 
who  likes  to  see  things  done  for  himself.  He  had  a 
hundred  matters  to  attend  to  every  day,  but  in  his 
moments  of  leisure  his  chief  delight  was  to  wander 
alone  round  Paris  at  night  dressed  as  inconspicuously 
as  possible,  and  poke  his  nose  into  all  sorts  of  places 
where  he  was  not  expected.  He  had  run  into  some 
very  remarkable,  and  even  dangerous  adventures  in 
consequence. 

The  story  of  the  mysterious  and  ubiquitous  studio, 
with  its  bathroom  and  tiger-skin  rugs,  excited  both  his 
curiosity  and  his  sense  of  humor.  It  would  be  a  shame, 
he  reflected,  to  put  it  into  the  hands  of  some  over- 
zealous  Inspector,  who,  in  his  worthy  desire  to  bring 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  185 

transgressors  to  justice,  would  entirely  overlook  the 
finer  points  of  the  situation.  It  was  a  little  matter 
he  would  look  into  himself  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 
In  the  meantime  he  collected  all  the  reports  that  came 
in  of  the  mysterious  studio. 

VI 

AFTER  some  thought  Lemaire  had  decided  that  the 
subject  of  his  picture  should  be  "Cleopatra  receiving 
Mark  Antony." 

In  his  ardent  youth  this  romantic  story  of  ancient 
Egypt  had  fascinated  him,  and  he  had  then  made  a 
large  number  of  sketches  and  studies  for  a  painting 
that  was  to  be  the  chef  d'oeuvre  of  his  career.  He  had 
never  started  on  the  picture,  and  decided  that  now  was 
the  time.  The  choice  of  this  subject  also  disposed  of 
the  necessity  of  employing  models,  a  matter  which  he 
wisely  saw  would  present  considerable  difficulties  during 
the  daylight  hours  in  the  Rue  Tartarin. 

Lemaire  began  by  putting  his  house  in  order.  With 
deft  touches  he  transformed  the  interior  of  the  studio. 
His  living-room  he  decorated  with  striking  posters, 
picked  up  at  various  times  from  vendors  on  the  Boule- 
vards at  a  few  sous  each.  With  a  few  odd  bits  of  cur- 
tain and  carpet,  some  plaster  casts  and  various  exam- 
ples of  his  own  work  he  made  the  studio  look  very  much 
like  any  other  studio.  There  were  no  tiger-skin  rugs 
available,  but  Lemaire  felt  very  satisfied  with  the  deco- 
rations as  he  looked  round. 

Then  with  a  canvas  of  large  dimensions  on  his  easel 
he  settled  down  to  the  painting  of  "Cleopatra  receiving 
Mark  Antony." 

He  worked  in  the  greatest  happiness,  with  the  sounds 
of  his  beloved  Paris  all  around  him.  The  shrill  horn 


186       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

of  the  itinerant  chair-mender  filled  his  studio  with 
music.  He  could  hear  all  details  of  the  perennial 
quarrel  between  the  "chasseur"  and  the  door  porter 
over  at  Boulanger's.  Often  he  caught  snatches  of 
conversation  from  people  passing  on  the  pavements — 
very  intimate  snatches  sometimes.  A  Parisian  to  his 
bones,  this  nearness  to  the  life  of  the  great  city  while 
himself  remaining  unseen  thrilled  him.  It  was  as 
though  he  had  the  cap  of  invisibility  amongst  his 
fellows. 

"No  artist  ever  had  such  a  studio,"  he  exulted.  He 
put  all  his  soul  into  the  work,  and  rejoiced  to  see  the 
superb  figure  of  Cleopatra,  reclining  on  a  couch  of 
gold,  growing  before  his  eyes. 

As  for  Antoine  he  found  himself  for  once  compelled 
to  play  a  waiting  game.  Lemaire  had  told  him  that 
at  the  rate  he  was  now  working  the  picture  would  be 
finished  in  a  month.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but 
to  wait  until  that  time  was  over,  and  then  let  Paris 
know  through  La  Lumiere  the  fantastic  story  of  the 
Rue  Tartarin. 

He  paid  one  nocturnal  visit  to  Lemaire  and  found 
the  artist  most  comfortably  installed,  and  in  the  hap- 
piest frame  of  mind.  A  lamp  burned  brightly  on  the 
table,  near  which  was  a  comfortable  canvas  deck  chair. 
Lemaire  pointed  to  an  open  book. 

"I  am  renewing  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  books 
I  read  in  youth — 'Notre  Dame  de  Paris'  you  see.  Do 
you  know  that  this  is  the  most  delightful  period  I  have 
ever  spent  in  my  life.  I  work  furiously  by  day,  and 
read  at  night.  My  mind  is  at  rest,  everything  is  calm 
and  peaceful  ...  Take  the  easy  chair.  I  have  some 
passable  red  wine  here." 

Antoine  lighted  a  cigar,  Lemaire  filled  a  huge  pipe 
with  shaggy  "caporal"  and  the  two  sat  there  talking 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  187 

happily  in  the  glow  of  the  lamp  light.  Antoine  found 
that  there  was  something  wonderfully  soothing  and 
friendly  in  the  atmosphere  of  this  wooden  retreat. 

"Vraiment,  I  envy  you,  Lemaire,  it  is  most  pleasant 
here  ...  I  must  come  again,  and  bring  Bourdot  and 
Morissot.  We  will  put  some  things  in  a  bag  and  have 
a  little  supper.  What  do  you  say?" 

"It  would  be  delightful.     When  shall  you  come?" 

"It  will  be  some  time  this  week.  But  can  your  clock 
be  right?  Two  in  the  morning!  I  must  be  going." 
And  after  Lemaire  had  gone  outside  to  survey  the  street 
and  see  that  nobody  was  about  Antoine  took  his 
departure. 

It  was  two  days  later  that  Bourdot  came  in  to  him 
with  a  serious  face. 

"You  have  heard  the  news?  That  story  of  the  Rue 
Tartarin  is  all  over  Paris." 

"Comment!"  Antoine  bounded  from  his  chair. 
"How  has  that  happened?" 

"I  fancy  the  Baron  has  been  a  little  indiscreet.  It 
is  a  huge  joke,  and  everybody  is  laughing  already.  I 
heard  it  in  three  places  to-day.  But  it  is  all  mixed 
up  in  the  most  extraordinary  fashion."  And  Bourdot 
told  him  all  he  had  heard. 

The  serious  look  went  from  Antoine's  face  as  Bourdot 
proceeded.  When  the  story  was  finished  Antoine  was 
shaking  with  mirth. 

"But  it  is  no  laughing  matter,"  protested  Bourdot. 

"How  can  I  help  laughing — marble  bathroom,  tiger- 
skin  rugs,  afternoon  teas,  beautiful  lady  visitors  and  a 
phantom  studio,  that  flits  about  all  over  Paris.  What 
could  be  better  .  .  .  And  perhaps  that  explains  why 
we  have  not  heard  from  the  police  or  somebody.  Either 
they  don't  believe  it  or  they  are  busy  exploring  every 
chantier  in  Paris  trying  to  find  the  right  one." 


188       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Oh  well,  so  long  as  it  pleases  you." 

"Why  not?  We  must  not  let  it  worry  us.  It  is  a 
development  of  the  joke.  Anything  may  come  of  it. 
And  you  say  that  Paris  is  already  amused.  It  is  some- 
thing .  .  .  By  the  way,  I  have  promised  Lemaire  that 
the  three  of  us  will  go  to  supper  with  him.  I  spent 
some  hours  there  two  nights  ago.  It  was  most  amusing. 
We  had  better  go  to-night,  and  make  the  most  of  the 
time.  I  have  told  Morissot." 

"By  all  means.     Who  provides  the  supper?" 

"We  do,  of  course.  I  am  having,  something  put 
together  at  the  Bonne  Biere" 

"Good.  By  the  way,  you  know  I  suppose  that  the 
young  King  of  Calabria  is  visiting  Paris  incognito. 
I  believe  he  is  having  a  very  good  time  with  our  friend 
the  Baron.  .  .  .  Pity  I  can't  describe  their  adven- 
tures. They  would  be  so  much  more  interesting  than 
the  conventional  record  of  an  official  visit,  hem?" 

Antoine  smiled.  "Till  to-night  then,"  he  said. 
"Lemaire  will  be  ready  to  receive  visitors  at  twelve 
o'clock." 

Shortly  after  midnight  the  directorate  of  La  Lumiere 
descended  from  a  taxicab  at  the  further  end  of  the 
Rue  Tartarin.  Each  of  the  three  carried  a  parcel 
under  his  arm.  They  walked  along  the  street,  waited 
until  a  party  of  people  had  passed  into  Boulanger's 
and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  studio.  Lemaire  opened 
it  at  once.  , 

Morissot  and  Bourdot,  who  had  not  seen  the  place  in 
its  magnificence,  looked  round  them  with  appreciation 
and  amusement.  Lemaire  was  delighted  at  their  praise 
of  his  interior. 

"I  have  set  up  the  table  in  the  studio,"  he  said.  "We 
can  dine  there  and  drink  our  coffee  in  here  afterwards." 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  189 

"Then  let  us  undo  these  parcels  and  begin  at  once," 
said  Antoine. 

Roast  chicken,  salads,  champagne,  liqueurs  and  other 
good  things  were  produced  which  Lemaire,  his  eyes 
dancing  with  excitement  and  happiness,  laid  out  on  the 
table.  In  a  few  minutes  all  was  ready. 

"Messieurs,  a  table,"  cried  Antoine  gaily.  There 
was  a  cheerful  popping  of  corks,  and  in  the  greatest 
good  humor  the  four  sat  down  to  supper.  From  a 
corner  the  slumberous  eyes  of  Cleopatra,  recumbent  on 
her  couch  of  gold,  seemed  to  be  watching  them  with 
interest. 

"Who  would  not  have  been  Mark  Antony,  even  though 
he  has  been  dead  two  thousand  years,"  cried  Bourdot. 
"What  a  woman !  Messieurs,  I  drink  to  the  success  of 
Lemaire's  work  of  genius." 

There  came  a  knock  at  the  door.  The  four,  sud- 
denly grave  and  quiet,  stared  at  each  other  with  startled 
faces. 

"You  open  the  door,  Lemaire,"  whispered  Antoine. 
"Quick,  get  that  workman's  blouse  on.  If  it  is  any- 
body dangerous  you  must  swear  like  a  market  porter, 
and  say  you  have  got  some  members  of  your  family 
with  you.  We  will  keep  in  the  shadow  here." 

"But  if  it  is  the  police,"  exclaimed  Bourdot. 

"We  must  hope  it  isn't.  If  it  is,  Lemaire  must  bluff 
as  best  he  can." 

There  came  another  knock.  Lemaire  opened  the 
door  a  few  inches. 

"Who's  there?"  he  asked  gruffly. 

"A  friend  of  Monsieur  Antoine  Poiret,"  came  the 
answer.  "I  desire  to  come  in  and  have  supper  here." 

"Good  Heavens,  that  is  the  Baron's  voice,"  cried 
Antoine  and  ran  to  the  door. 


190       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

VII 

To  his  amazement  he  found  that  the  Baron  was  not 
alone.  Far  from  it.  A  group  or  some  six  or  more 
people  stood  behind  him  and  it  included  three  ladies. 

"You  here!"  exclaimed  the  Baron.  "That  is  good 
fortune  indeed.  I  have  a  little  party  of  friends  here, 
and  we  all  desire  to  have  supper  in  the  famous  studio 
of  the  Rue  Tartarin.  May  we  come  in?" 

"Mais  certainement."  Antoine  held  open  the  door. 
He  felt  quite  bewildered.  The  Baron  entered  followed 
by  a  most  distinguished  company. 

"Let  me  present  M.  Poiret,  the  author  of  this  de- 
lightful conspiracy,"  said  the  Baron.  Antoine  bowed 
again  and  again  as  he  heard  a  string  of  names  famous 
in  Parisian  society.  The  three  ladies  were  all  remark- 
ably pretty  he  noticed.  The  face  of  one  elegant  and 
slim  young  man,  who  was  presented  as  the  Duke  of 
Santander,  seemed  vaguely  familiar. 

The  thought  running  uppermost  in  Antoine's  mind 
was  as  to  how  he  was  to  supply  food  for  all  this 
assembly. 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  having  supper  here?"  he 
asked  the  Baron. 

"Are  you  having  supper — but  I  did  not  know  it." 

"And  yet  .  .  ."  Antoine  spread  out  his  hands  with 
a  helpless  gesture. 

The  Baron  laughed,  but  there  was  a  touch  of  em- 
barrassment in  his  tone  as  he  bent  to  speak  in  a  low 
tone. 

"The  fact  is,  mon  cher  Poiret,  I  owe  you  a  thousand 
apologies."  The  fame  of  your  latest  exploit  has  got 
abroad.  There  is  great  laughter  and  excitement  about 
it.  It  occurred  to  me,  then,  to  bring  a  little  party  to 
sup  in  the  famous  atelier  of  the  Rue  Tartarin.  You 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  191 

heard  the  names  of  my  friends.  They  are  not  unknown 
in  the  world  of  fashion.  And  the  Duke  of  Santander — 
you  know  who  he  is,  of  course." 

"The  King  of  Calabria!"  exclaimed  Antoine,  a  light 
breaking  on  him. 

"Precisely.  You  cannot  imagine  how  he  relishes  the 
joke." 

"But  your  supper!" 

"That  is  arranged  for.  Boulanger  is  sending  it 
across.  It  will  be  here  at  any  moment." 

"Boulanger!"  Antoine  was  not  yet  at  the  end  of 
his  bewilderment.  "But  if  he  finds  out  why  this  place 
has  been  built — that  his  business  has  been  dislocated 
for  days  because  .  .  ." 

"On  the  contrary.  We  called  Boulanger  to  us  and 
let  him  into  the  secret.  He  laughed  until  he  cried.  I 
have  never  seen  the  proprietor  of  a  restaurant  so  thor- 
oughly happy.  It  was  extraordinary.  He  thinks  you 
are  a  genius,  and  will  superintend  the  laying  of  the 
supper  in  person.  And  everything  will  be  carried  out 
with  the  greatest  discretion." 

"Oh,  but  I  give  it  up!"  exclaimed  Antoine,  putting 
his  hand  to  his  head. 

The  door  was  suddenly  pushed  open  and  a  waiter 
entered  bearing  a  small  table.  Two  other  waiters  ap- 
peared behind  -him,  similarly  burdened.  And '  then 
Boulanger  himself  entered.  His  face  broke  into  a 
happy  smile  as  he  saw  Antoine  and  bowed  to  him. 

Antoine  explained  the  situation  to  the  Baron. 

"Then  you  four  had  better  join  in  our  feast,"  said 
the  Baron.  "That  will  be  twelve  for  supper,  Boulanger." 

Boulanger  rushed  off  to  give  more  orders. 

"Excuse  me  one  moment,  please.  I  will  go  and  ex- 
plain to  my  friends.  They  will  be  delighted."  And 
Antoine  went  in  to  the  inner  room. 


192       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"We  have  heard  everything,"  said  Bourdot.  "I 
know  them  all — that  is  with  the  exception  of  His 
Majesty,"  he  added  importantly. 

"The  Duke  of  Santander,"  Antoine  corrected. 

"Have  no  fear.  I  am  at  home  in  these  matters." 
And  Bourdot  twirled  his  moustache. 

The  Baron  entered  with  the  Duke,  and  presentations 
were  made.  The  Duke  immediately  noticed  the  picture 
and  "went  to  examine  it.  He  was  loud  in  his  praise  and 
complimented  Lemaire  gracefully. 

All  this  while  the  waiters  were  dashing  about,  noise- 
less hut  amazingly  energetic.  In  ten  minutes  they  had 
effected  a  wonderful  transformation.  A  long  table 
surrounded  by  chairs  ran  down  the  center  of  the  studio, 
almost  filling  it.  The  white  cloth  was  decorated  with 
silver  and  flowers.  Plates  and  cutlery  were  laid  for 
twelve.  Dozens  of  candles  twinkled  in  candelabra.  It 
was  a  miracle. 

Boulanger  gave  an  approving  look  round. 

"Supper  will  be  ready  in  two  minutes,  Monsieur  le 
Baron,"  he  said. 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  tireless  waiters  appeared  with 
the  first  course.  With  some  confusion  and  a  good  deal 
of  laughing  and  chatting  the  company  sat  down. 
Antoine  found  himself  by  the  side  of  one  of  the  three 
charming  ladies,  who  paid  him  the  warmest  compli- 
ments on  'his  ingenuity  and  sense  of  humor.  And 
Antoine  was  more  than  pleased  to  hear  that  other  ex- 
ploits of  La  Lumiere  had  been  appreciated  warmly. 

The  supper  was  a  great  success.  The  Duke  of 
Santander  was  in  the  liveliest  good  humor,  and  showed 
that  he  had  an  excellent  wit. 

"I  have  been  introduced  to  one  Paris  by  the  President 
of  the  Republic,"  he  said.  "I  have  been  introduced  to 
quite  another  Paris  by  you,  Baron.  I  much  prefer 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  193 

yours.  The  studio  of  the  Rue  Tartarin  is  far  more 
amusing  than  the  Opera  on  a  gala  night." 

"And  costs  the  State  far  less,"  replied  the  Baron,  at 
which  the  Duke  laughed  immoderately. 

Suddenly  when  the  gaiety  was  at  its  height  Boulanger 
rushed  in.  His  face  was  white.  "Monsieur  le  Baron !" 
he  cried,  and  pointed  behind  him. 

The  chatter  and  laughter  ceased  and  everybody 
looked  towards  the  door.  A  small  white-bearded  figure, 
in  an  overcoat  and  bowler  hat,  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Bon  Dieu,  the  Prefect  of  Police !"  exclaimed  Antoine, 

Monsieur  Labiche,  seeing  ladies  present,  removed  his 
•hat.  His  face  was  immobile,  but  his  eyes  seemed  to 
twinkle  as  he  looked  the  company  slowly  up  and  down. 
The  silence  was  complete. 

"Mesdames  et  Messieurs,"  said  the  Prefect,  with  an 
ironical  inclination.  He  had  the  situation  perfectly  in 
hand,  and  was  enjoying  it  immensely. 

Then  his  glance  rested  on  the  Duke  of  Santander. 
An  expression  of  amazement  came  over  his  face.  Even 
M.  Labiche  was  completely  nonplussed. 

"Bon  soir,  Monsieur  le  Prefet,"  said  the  Duke  politely. 

"Bon  soir,  Monsieur  le  Due,"  returned  the  Prefect. 
"I  did  not  think  when  I  met  you  this  morning  that  I 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  so  soon  again." 

"Your  charming  Paris  is  full  of  delicious  surprises. 
Will  you  not  join  us  at  supper?" 

"Ma  foi,  I  should  like  to  very  much,  but    .     .     ." 

The  Prefect  hesitated,  searching  for  a  phrase.  He 
was  saved  from  his  predicament  by  a  chorus  of  voices 
from  outside  which  made  everybody  turn  and  look 
towards  the  door.  There  were  the  rough  tones  of  men, 
the  shrill  speech  of  women  and  the  querulous  voices  of 
crying  infants  all  mixed  up.  There  was  a  half-silence 
in  which  could  be  heard  the  sound  of  shuffling  feet,  and 


394       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

then  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice  raised  to  address  the 
others. 

The  next  instant  the  outer  door,  which  had  been  left 
ajar  after  the  entry  of  the  Prefect  was  pushed  open. 
The  eyes  of  all  the  company  in  the  brilliantly  lighted 
studio  were  directed  towards  the  inner  door.  A  stout 
little  man  appeared  standing  by  the  side  of  the  Prefect. 
He  blinked  with  wonderment  at  the  scene  before  him — 
the  lights,  the  silver,  the  flowers,  the  cut  glass,  the 
evening  dress  and  the  beautiful  ladies  of  the  Baron's 
supper  party. 

"Ten  thousand  devils!"  exclaimed  Antoine  to  himself 
in  a  heat  of  anger.  "It's  Grosj  ean !" 

VIII 

THE  eyes  of  the  newcomer  seemed  to  be  starting  from 
his  head  in  wonder. 

"Mais  bon  Dieu,  where  am  I !"  he  exclaimed. 

His  aspect  of  amazement  was  irresistibly  comic,  and 
the  party  exploded  in  a  roar  of  laughter.  The  Duke 
was  particularly  delighted. 

Alone  the  Prefect  had  preserved  his  composure. 

"Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want?"  he  ques- 
tioned abruptly. 

"My  name  is  Grosj  ean,  and  I  have  come  here  for 
shelter  for  some  poor  devils  of  workpeople  I  have  got 
with  me.  It  is  cold,  and  is  just  beginning  to  rain  and 
we  have  nowhere  to  go.  I  have  been  thrown  out  of  three 
places  to-night.  I  waited  until  the  audience  was  leav- 
ing a  cafe  chantant,  and  tried  to  rush  in  as  the  others 
were  coming  out.  Useless !  We  were  defeated.  Then 
we  stormed  the  Grand  Hotel.  The  same,  and  some 
blackguard  hit  me  with  a  stick.  Observe  my  hat.  We 
had  no  better  luck  with  a  tramway  shelter.  Passing 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  195 

down  the  Rue  Royale  there  I  thought  of  this  place. 
In  desperation  .  .  ." 

"But  how  did  you  know  of  this  place?"  inquired  the 
Prefect  sharply. 

"Sapristi,  I  built  it !" 

"Built  it!     For  whom?" 

"For  me — or  rather  for  La  Lumiere,"  interposed 
Antoine. 

The  Prefect  looked  at  Antoine,  and  caressed  his  little 
beard. 

"Ah!  I  begin  to  see."  The  Prefect  turned  to  the 
newcomer  again.  "And  so  you  are  the  famous 
Grosjean.  How  many  followers  have  you  out  there?" 

"We  are  thirty  all  told,  and  there  are  ten  young 
children." 

The  Prefect  shrugged  his  shoulders  a  little  hope- 
lessly. Here  was  a  devil  of  a  situation.  He  looked 
towards  the  Duke  inquiringly. 

But  the  Duke,  who  had  been  talking  rapidly  in  an 
undertone  to  the  Baron,  finding  out  exactly  what  all  this 
meant,  had  risen  to  his  feet. 

"Monsieur  le  Prefect — and  you,  Monsieur,"  he  turned 
to  include  Antoine  in  his  request.  "We  cannot  let  these 
poor  people  and  children  stand  outside  in  the  cold. 
May  I  suggest  that  they  are  allowed  to  come  in.  No 
doubt  they  are  hungry,  and  there  is  plenty  here  for 
them  to  eat."  He  looked  round  the  well-filled  table. 

"I  know  not  precisely  who  is  the  host  of  this  charm- 
ing retreat,"  said  the  Prefect  drily,  "but  for  my  part, 
Monsieur  le  Due,  I  have  no  objection  to  make  to  your 
generous  proposal." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Antoine. 

"Ah,  but  that  is  kind  of  you!"  cried  Grosjean,  his 
face  beaming.  He  ran  immediately  to  the  other  door, 
and  opening  it  wide  shouted : 


196       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Entrez,  tout  le  monde!" 

It  was  a  pathetic  procession  that  came  in.  White- 
faced  men  and  women,  young  children  led  by  the  hand, 
one  or  two  babies  carried  in  their  mothers'  arms.  They 
crowded  in  sheepishly,  abashed  by  the  company  in  whose 
presence  they  found  themselves. 

"We  shall  need  milk,"  exclaimed  Boulanger,  looking 
at  the  babies.  "I  will  go  and  see  if  there  is  any  to  be 
found  at  this  hour." 

The  company  had  risen  from  the  table,  and  as  the 
elegant  friends  of  the  Baron  came  out  of  the  studio 
Grosjean's  homeless  family  pressed  in,  their  eyes  shin- 
ing at  the  sight  of  the  good  things  on  the  table. 

Both  rooms  were  now  most  uncomfortably  full.  The 
Duke  found  himself  surrounded  by  a  group  of  untidy 
women  holding  babies.  He  took  it  very  well,  and 
smiled  at  the  babies.  He  also  lit  a  cigar. 

The  Baron  found  himself  by  the  side  of  Antoine. 

"How  does  this  affect  your  little  scheme,  mon  ami?" 

"Heaven  only  knows.  I  am  too  bewildered  to  think. 
What  a  night !" 

"The  Prefect  must  feel  as  bewildered  as  you.  He 
discovers  the  studio,  and  then  finds  a  King  in  it — not  to 
mention  the  good  Grosjean  and  his  family.  It  is  a 
delicate — and  delicious — situation.  It  seems  to  me  the 
Prefect  has  got  you,  and  you  have  got  the  Prefect. 
How  if  I  suggested  to  the  Duke  that  there  should  be 
an  informal  conference  where  the  four  of  us  might  talk 
things  over?" 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well.  .  .  .  And  yet  my 
position  is  very  strong.  Think  how  Paris  would  laugh 
to  read  of  to-night's  affair  in  the  Rue  Tartarin." 

The  Baron  shook  his  head. 

"You  would  have  to  leave  the  King  out,  mon  ami. 
He  is  not  here  officially,  but  none  the  less  he  is  the  guest 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  197 

of  every  good  Parisian — and  you  are  an  excellent 
Parisian." 

"Merci!  Then,  Baron,  I  leave  the  matter  entirely 
in  your  hands.  La  Lumiere  owes  much  to  you.  Do  as 
you  wish." 

"Good.      You  shall  not  regret  it." 

The  Baron  worked  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  the 
side  of  the  Duke  who  nodded  readily  to  something  the 
Baron  said  to  him.  The  Duke  make  a  signal  to  the 
Prefect,  who  had  been  looking  on  at  Gros jean's  ar- 
rangements for  feeding  his  hungry  flock.  M.  Labiche 
hurried  to  him. 

"Monsieur  le  Prefet,"  said  the  Duke,  taking  out  a 
well-filled  pocketbook,  "I  should  like  to  place  ten  thou- 
sands francs  in  your  hands  for  the  poor  of  Paris — with 
the  suggestion  that  half  of  it  should  be  applied  to  the 
immediate  wants  of  those  who  are  here  now."  He 
counted  out  ten  notes,  which  M.  Labiche  received  with 
an  expression  of  warm  thanks.  "And  will  you  do  me 
the  favor  of  lunching  with  me  to-morrow.  There  will 
be  a  very  small  party.  The  Hotel  Bristol  at  one 
o'clock." 

The  Prefect  replied  that  he  would  be  delighted. 

"Then  good  night,  and  au  revoir." 

"It  is  morning,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Prefect  with 
a  laugh.  And  through  the  half-open  door  he  pointed 
to  the  first  pale  light  of  dawn  stealing  over  the  tall 
house-tops  of  the  Rue  Tartarin. 

IX 

THE  three  Directors  of  La  Lumiere  sat  in  council  again. 
Antoine  had  just  returned  from  his  lunch  with  the  King. 
Bourdot  and  Morissot  were  burning  to  know  what  had 
happened,  and  what  had  been  decided. 


198       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"It  was  most  interesting,"  said  Antoine.  "He  is  a 
charming  young  man,  the  King.  How  pleasant  to  be 
a  king,  after  all." 

"Oui,  mats    .     .     ."  Bourdot  interposed  impatiently. 

"Bien,  bten.  I  will  get  on.  We  sat  in  a  small  pri- 
vate room  at  a  small  round  table — I  facing  the  King, 
the  Prefect  to  my  left,  the  Baron  to  my  right.  And 
the  luncheon — delicious  !  There  was  a  vin  de  Bourgogne 
such  as  I  can  never  hope  to  taste  of  again.  Incompar- 
able !  It  seems  there  is  very  little  of  it  in  existence,  and 
it  is  all  reserved  for  the  King." 

"And  the  sardines?  Of  what  vintage  were  they?" 
asked  Morissot  drily. 

"Nothing,  mon  cher  Morissot,  shall  hurry  me.  There 
were  no  sardines.  Admirable  as  sardines  are  in  their 
place  they  would  have  been  an  impertinence  on  this 
occasion.  But  I  can  see  it  would  not  be  fair  to  describe 
this  perfect  luncheon  in  detail.  It  was  so  much  beyond 
ordinary  luncheons  that  to  tell  you  of  it  would  be  like 
dangling  an  excellent  meal  before  a  starving  man." 

"Oh,  mais  voyons!"  and  Bourdot  banged  his  fist  on 
the  table. 

"Then  I  will  be  brief.  Everybody  was  in  the  best 
of  humor,  and  the  King's  first  question  was  as  to  what 
became  of  Grosjean  and  his  family  last  night.  He 
seemed  quite  concerned  about  them,  and  was  much  re- 
lieved when  the  Prefect  assured  him  that  they  are  to  be 
well  cared  for  during  the  next  few  days,  until  proper 
living  quarters  can  be  found  for  them.  "That  is  excel- 
lent,' said  the  King.  Un  tres  gentil  garcon^  le  Roi" 

"Yes,  but  La  Lumiere.     Where  do  we  come  in  ?" 

"Ma  foi,  it  was  all  settled  so  quickly  that  I  hardly 
know  how  to  describe  it.  The  King  said  very  sweetly 
to  the  Prefect,  'By  the  way,  will  there  be  any  sequel  to 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  199 

the  affair  of  the  Rue  Tartarin?'  The  Prefect  answered 
that  so  far  he  had  taken  no  steps  of  any  kind,  but  if  a 
certain  newspaper  which  he  would  not  name  made  great 
capital  out  of  the  incident,  then  it  might  be  necessary 
to  invoke  the  fullest  power  of  the  law.  Upon  which 
the  Baron  said,  'I  will  answer  for  it  that  nothing  of  the 
sort  shall  be  done.'  And  at  that  the  Prefect  replied 
that  if  this  were  so  he  was  quite  willing  to  forget  his 
visit  to  the  Rue  Tartarin  of  the  night  before,  but 
trusted  that  on  the  other  hand  his  Majesty  would  cherish 
the  experience  as  an  amusing  and  unconventional 
souvenir  of  Paris." 

"And  then?" 

"Why  then,"  said  Antoine  with  a  wave  of  the  hand, 
"we  drank  some  more  of  that  incomparable  Bourgogne 
and  talked  of  other  things.  In  short,  the  affair  of  the 
Rue  Tartarin  was  over — finished." 

"But  that  is  a  bit  stiff,"  exclaimed  Bourdot  heatedly. 
"This  affair  from  first  to  last,  has  cost  us  twelve  thou- 
sand francs,  and  because  you  have  had  a  well-cooked 
luncheon  and  some  wine  a  little  better  than  we  can  buy  at 
the  cafe  round  the  corner,  you  consent  tamely  to  be 
bought  off  like  that !  Sapristi !  but  it  is  not  business ! 
Twelve  thousand  francs  to  the  bad !" 

"Not  entirely,"  said  Antoine.  He  took  a  little 
morocco  case  from  his  pocket  and  from  it  extracted  a 
glittering  scarfpin.  "You  observe — the  King's  mono- 
gram set  in  brilliants.  He  presented  me  with  this.  It 
is  chic,  is  it  not  ?" 

At  the  sight  of  this  Bourdot  glared  and  made  a  noise 
of  disgust  and  anger.  Even  Morissot  was  moved  to 
complain : 

"But,  mon  cher  Antoine,  though  we  submit  gladly  to 
your  leadership  you  must  remember  that  we  also  are 
directors  of  La  Lumiere." 


200       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"So  his  Majesty  most  graciously  remembered,"  said 
Antoine  sweetly.  "Here  you  will  observe  is  a  delightful 
gold  cigarette  case,  with  the  royal  monogram  in  the 
corner  in  rubies.  Here  is  another,  precisely  similar, 
but  with  the  monogram  in  emeralds.  The  King  begged 
me  to  hand  them  to  you  with  his  compliments." 

There  was  silence  for  a  space. 

"I  like  emeralds,"  said  Morissot  at  last. 

"And  I  rubies,"  said  Bourdot. 

"It  is  very  charming  of  his  Majesty,"  admitted 
Morissot.  "Yes,  Antoine,  you  were  right.  No  other 
course  was  open  to  you." 

"I  shall  treasure  this  case,"  said  Bourdot.  "As  you 
say,  Antoine,  his  Majesty  is  a  delightful  young  man. 
i.  .  .  But  you  must  admit,  all  the  same,  that  the  affair 
of  the  Rue  Tartarin  is  a  failure — our  first  failure." 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Antoine  with  energy.  "It  has 
been  money  well  spent.  Do  not  forget,  to  begin  with, 
that  the  Baron,  one  of  the  most  powerful  men  in  Paris, 
is  our  firm  friend.  And  do  not  forget  that  the  affair  of 
the  Rue  Tartarin  has  been  talked  about  throughout  the 
very  best  circles  in  Paris,  and  will  be  talked  about  still 
more.  The  story  of  the  King  will  be  on  every  lip. 
La  Lumiere  has  become  the  pet  of  the  smartest  and  best 
in  Society.  And  all  that  for  twelve  thousand  francs! 
There  are  some  papers  would  gladly  pay  half  a 
million." 

"And  the  studio?" 

"That  still  belongs  to  us.  We  sell  the  material  to 
Grosjean,  and  he  takes  it  down  and  carts  it  away  as 
soon  as  possible.  And,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  the  King 
has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Lemaire's  Cleopatra,  and 
intends  to  buy  the  picture.  That  will  make  all  the 
greater  sensation  when  it  is  hung  in  the  Salon.  A 
failure!  Au  contraire!  And  though  we  are  three 


THE  STUDIO  IN  THE  RUE  TARTARIN  201 

staunch  Republicans,  I  propose  that  we  go  round  to  the 
humble  Cafe  de  la  Bonne  Blere  and  crack  a  bottle  of 
the  best  that  the  Pere  Duval  can  give  us  in  a  toast." 

"What  is  the  toast?"  inquired  Bourdot. 

"The  King!"  said  Antoine.  "His  Majesty  of 
Calabria,  henceforth  a  regular  subscriber  to  that  famous 
and  excellent  newspaper,  La  Lumiere  of  Paris." 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY 


IT  was  inevitable  that  at  some  time  or  other  the 
trenchant  style  of  the  political  articles  written  by 
M.  Auguste  Morissot  in  La  Lumlere  should  lead  their 
author  into  grave  trouble. 

Morissot  in  the  happiest  frame  of  mind,  was  compos- 
ing one  evening  a  fulmination  against  his  arch  and  eter- 
nal enemy,  the  Government,  when  Jean,  the  doorkeeper, 
entered  with  a  card. 

"For  you,  Monsieur,"  said  Jean,  proffering  the  card. 
"The  gentleman  says  he  insists  on  seeing  you  at  once." 

"Theodore  Hippolyte  Dupuy,"  Morissot  read  on  the 
piece  of  pasteboard.  It  was  the  name  of  a  Deputy  to 
whom  he  had  slightingly  referred  in  that  morning's 
paper,  in  writing  about  a  debate  in  the  Chamber. 

"Does  he  seem  angry?"  asked  Morissot. 

"Remarkably  so,  Monsieur." 

"Bien — you  had  better  show  him  in  at  once." 

A  few  seconds  later  the  visitor  entered  the  room.  He 
was  short  and  plump,  with  the  dark  skin  and  luxuriant 
black  beard  of  a  native  of  the  south. 

"Have  I  the  honor  to  speak  to  Monsieur  Morissot?" 
demanded  M.  Dupuy,  with  a  flash  of  his  dark  eyes. 

Morissot  inclined  his  head,  and  asked  what  he  could 
have  the  pleasure  of  doing  for  his  visitor. 

202 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  203 

"You  referred  to  me  in  ungracious  terms  in  your 
journal  this  morning."  M.  Dupuy  spoke  loudly  and 
angrily.  "You  said  that  I  might  make  an  excellent 
comedian,  but  that  I  am  a  very  bad  Deputy.  Monsieur, 
I  demand  that  you  retract  those  words  immediately, 
and  write  a  full  and  handsome  apology  for  having  pub- 
lished them." 

"I  regret,  Monsieur,  but  La  Lumiere  does  not  hold 
its  political  opinions  lightly.  It  is  not  in  the  habit  of 
retracting  its  considered  judgment."  Morissot  spoke 
politely  but  decisively. 

"Then  am  I  to  understand  that  you  refuse  to  do  as 
I  wish?"  The  dark  eyes  of  M.  Dupuy  were  dancing 
with  rage. 

"Alas,  I  am  afraid  it  is  impossible." 

"Then  you  shall  give  me  satisfaction  in  another  and 
more  drastic  fashion.  My  seconds  shall  wait  upon  you 
and  at  once.  I  wish  you  good  evening,  Monsieur." 
And  the  irate  Deputy  bounced  out  of  the  room. 

Morissot  carefully  placed  his  monocle  in  his  eye  and 
stared  out  of  the  window.  He  had  never  fought  a  duel. 
But  now  evidently  his  turn  had  come.  Well,  there  was 
nothing  surprising  in  that.  The  amazing  thing  was 
that  it  had  not  happened  to  him  long  before.  The 
boulevard  journalist,  and  especially  if  he  fishes  in  the 
troubled  waters  of  politics,  must  always  be  prepared  for 
such  an  adventure. 

There  was  the  question  of  seconds.  Obviously  he 
must  have  Antoine  and  Bourdot.  Himself  as  principal, 
his  co-directors  as  seconds,  La  Lumiere  would  make  its 
stand  on  the  field  of  honor  in  the  name  of  truth  and 
justice.  For  Morissot  had  the  supreme  advantage  as  a 
journalist  that  he  was  sincere,  and  believed  in  what  he 
wrote.  He  had  suggested  that  M.  Dupuy  would  make 
a  better  comedian  than  he  was  a  member  of  Parliament 


[THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

because  that  was  his  honest  opinion  after  listening  to  a 
debate  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  in  which  M.  Dupuy 
•had  taken  part. 

Morissot  walked  down  the  corridor  to  Antoine's  room, 
and  found  him  there  talking  to  Bourdot. 

"I  have  something  to  announce  to  you,  mes  amis" 
said  Morissot,  with  a  touch  of  gravity  in  his  tones.  And 
he  told  them  what  had  just  passed. 

"The  Devil !"  said  Antoine. 

"Mon  cher  ami!"  exclaimed  Bourdot. 

"But  you  seem  surprised,  both  of  you !  Everybody 
must  fight  a  duel  at  some  time  or  other,"  Morissot 
laughed  lightly. 

"Your  calm  is  admirable,"  said  Antoine.  "But  you 
know,  doubtless,  something  of  the  reputation  of  this 
Dupuy?" 

"As  a  politician  you  mean?  He  is  of  no  account 
whatever." 

"As  a  politician!  Sapristi,  no!  As  a  duellist," 
cried  Antoine. 

The  slightest  change  came  over  Morissot's  face. 

"He  is  is  known,  then,  as  a  duellist?" 

"Ma  foi,  is  .he  known!  He  has  had  at  least  half  a 
dozen  affairs,  and  he  has  pinked  him  man  every  time. 
Vraiment — you  did  not  know?" 

"It  is  the  first  I  have  heard  of  it.  Diable !  That  is 
interesting."  And  Morissot  smiled  grimly.  "Do  you 
know  any  details  concerning  this  fire  eater?" 

"Nothing  more  than  that." 

"Well,  no  matter  how  terrible  he  may  be,  I've  got  to 
fight  him.  You  two  will  be  my  seconds,  of  course." 
They  assented  readily.  "Then  I  will  leave  everything 
in  your  hands." 

"I  know  you  do  not  fence,  mon  ami,"  said  Antoine. 
"How  are  you  with  the  pistol?" 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  205 

"Perhaps  I'm  a  dead  shot,"  laughed  Morissot.  "But 
since  I've  never  fired  one  I  don't  exactly  know.  Sword 
or  pistol,  it  is  all  the  same  to  me.  And  now  I  must  be 
off  and  finish  my  article." 

Antoine  gripped  one  hand,  Bourdot  the  other. 

"Leave  it  to  us,  and  have  no  fear,  mon  vieux.  In 
two  days  from  now  you  will  be  the  hero  of  a  sensational 
encounter.  This  Dupuy  shall  not  have  it  all  his  own 
way.  One  man  cannot  have  all  the  luck." 

When  Morissot  had  gone  the  other  two  looked  at  each 
other  gravely. 

"I  don't  like  the  look  of  this,  mon  vieux  Bourdot." 

"Nor  I." 

"Time  is  short.  If  I  know  anything  about  this 
ferocious  Dupuy  his  seconds  will  be  here  at  any  moment. 
He  has  probably  got  them  waiting  somewhere  near. 
Fancy  Morissot  provoking  such  a  fellow,  and  knowing 
nothing  of  his  reputation." 

"If  Morissot  did  not  like  his  politics  he  would  attack 
the  Evil  One  himself,"  said  Bourdot  warmly. 

"It  is  true.      In  politics  he  fears  nobody." 

Morissot  entered  again. 

"Our  friend  has  not  wasted  much  time,"  he  said.  "I 
think  he  must  have  had  his  seconds  waiting  outside  in  a 
cab.  I  will  bring  them  in  and  leave  them  to  you." 

He  returned  in  a  moment  with  two  correctly  attired 
gentlemen  who  were  ceremoniously  introduced.  Moris- 
sot,  with  a  bow  to  the  visitors,  withdrew  once  more,  leav- 
ing his  own  and  his  opponent's  seconds  in  conference. 

The  meeting  only  lasted  a  few  moments.  Antoine 
was  anxious  to  make  a  few  inquiries  as  to  the  prowess 
of  M.  Dupuy  before  he  committed  his  friend  to  any 
conditions.  It  was  arranged  that  there  should  be  a 
meeting  at  lunch  on  the  following  day  at  which  the 
proces  verbal  of  the  combat  should  be  drawn  up.  And 


2Q6      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

with  cordial  handshakes  the  representatives  of  the  fiery 
Dupuy  took  their  leave. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  drawing  up  the  con- 
ditions of  an  encounter  on  the  field  of  honor?"  asked 
Antoine  of  Bourdot. 

"Very  little.  I  have  seen  such  a  document,  but,  ma 
foi,  that  is  all." 

"I  have  never  even  seen  one.  And  these  things  have 
to  be  done  most  carefully — grandly  and  with  an  air. 
Why  is  one  not  taught  at  school  how  to  draw  up  a 
proces  verbal  for  a  duel?  We  must  not  look  insig- 
nificant before  the  seconds  of  Morissot's  adversary. 
Then  Morissot  will  need  a  surgeon  to  accompany  him 
to  the  field  of  honor.  Where  the  devil  does  one  find  at 
short  notice  a  surgeon  who  will  mix  liimself  up  in  a 
duel?  And  we  must  find  out  all  we  can  about  Dupuy. 
Perhaps  it  will  be  better  for  Morissot  to  meet  him  with 
pistols.  What  a  situation!  It  is  not  so  amusing  as 
I  thought  to  be  a  second." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  position  of  great  responsi- 
bility," said  Bourdot. 

Antoine  sat  in  thought  for  a  few  moments.  Then 
his  eye  lit  up  with  relief. 

"It  is  a  case  for  Severin-Blanchard.  Why  did  not 
we  think  of  him  at  once  ?  He  will  get  us  out  of  all  these 
difficulties."  And  Antoine  reached  for  the  telephone. 

II 

MONSIEUR  SEVERIN-BLANCHARD  was  a  well-known  figure 
in  Paris.  He  had  a  considerable  reputation  as  an 
author  and  dramatist,  and  in  addition  had  fought  in 
more  than  a  score  of  duels.  But  more  than  this  he  was 
recognized  as  the  supreme  authority  on  duelling.  Time 
after  time  people  of  his  acquaintance  who  were  in  dif- 


207 

ficulties  such  as  now  beset  Antoine  and  Bourdot,  came 
to  consult  him  on  the  etiquette  and  procedure  of  affairs 
of  honor. 

He  had  studied  the  duel  as  it  had  been  practiced  in 
all  climes  and  all  ages.  His  flat  in  the  Rue  Vaugirard 
was  a  museum  of  weapons,  ancient  and  modern.  His 
services  were  so  often  in  demand  that  gradually  he  had 
become  a  sort  of  unofficial  arbitre  or  referee  of  nearly 
every  duel  that  took  place  in  Paris  and  the  neighborhood. 
He  knew  the  intimate  details  of  many  stormy  love 
affairs,  the  frequent  cause  of  his  being  called  out  of 
bed  at  all  sorts  of  awkward  hours.  He  had  been  the 
director  of  combat  in  hundreds  of  affaires.  In  times  of 
high  political  tension,  when  hot  words  and  cartes  de 
visite  flew  about  like  autumn  leaves,  he  was  one  of  the 
busiest  men  in  Paris. 

He  had  indeed  been  known  to  complain  that  he  was 
so  much  occupied  in  arranging  and  conducting  other 
people's  affairs  of  honor  that  he  had  little  or  no  time  to 
indulge  in  any  duels  of  his  own.  Not  that  he  was  in 
any  way  bellicose  or  truculent.  In  spite  of  his  upturned 
moustaches,  the  little  imperial  that  curled  on  his  chin 
and  his  general  air  of  a  Mousquetaire  who  has  strayed 
into  the  twentieth  century,  he  was  one  of  the  kindest  of 
men.  But  duelling  was  his  hobby,  and  he  tumbled  into 
a  rencontre  joyously,  as  a  bookworm  picks  up  with  de- 
light an  interesting  volume  at  a  bookseller's  stall.  He 
had  no  positive  objection  to  pistols,  but  the  ring  of 
flashing  steel  blades  in  a  quiet  sylvan  spot  on  a  fine 
spring  morning  was  to  him  the  highest  pinnacle  of  en- 
joyment in  life. 

M.  Severin-Blanehard  was  sitting  at  his  desk  work- 
ing on  the  third  act  of  a  new  farce,  whose  delivery  was 
much  overdue,  when  the  telephone  tinkled.  He  made  an 
exclamation  of  impatience  as  he  picked  up  the  receiver. 


208      tTHE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Allo !"  he  cried  in  his  rich  baritone  voice. 

"Is  that  Monsieur  Severin-Blanchard?  This  is 
Poiret,  Antoine  Poiret  of  Lu  Lumiere,  speaking.  I 
wish  to  see  you  at  once  on  an  important  matter.  It  is 
most  urgent." 

"Mon  cher  ami,  I  am  very,  very  occupied,"  replied 
Severin-Blanchard,  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest  sorrow. 
"But  what  is  it?  Is  it  a  question  of  an  encounter?" 

As  briefly  as  possible  Antoine  explained  the  matter 
and  its  various  difficulties. 

"Only  you  can  help  us,"  he  concluded,  pleadingly. 
"There  is  no  other  in  Paris  to  whom  we  can  turn." 

"So  be  it,"  said  Severin-Blanchard,  touched  in  his 
tenderest  spot.  "I  am  at  your  service  from  this  moment 
onwards." 

"A  thousand  thanks.    We  are  coming  along  at  once." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  two  seconds  entered 
the  cabinet  de  travail  of  the  great  man.  Severin- 
Blanchard  put  cigars  and  wine  before  them,  and  they 
plunged  into  the  question  at  once.  He  listened  care- 
fully to  all  that  was  said. 

"Then  I  am  to  understand  that  your  client  is  quite 
unskilled  with  either  sword  or  pistol.  It  is  not  the  best 
of  preparations  for  a  meeting  on  the  field.  And  yet  I 
have  known  many  others  just  as  ill  equipped  who  have 
come  off  victorious.  There  is  a  certain  chance  in  these 
matters.  And  courage  and  audacity  count." 

"That  is  good  news,"  said  Antoine.  "You  will 
pardon,  I  hope,  my  great  ignorance  in  such  matters,  but 
there  is  one  rather  delicate  question  which  I  wish  to 
put  to  you.  (.  ,.  t.  Are  the  duels  of  to-day  often — 
dangerous  ?" 

The  eyebrows  of  Severin-Blanchard  went  up  in 
surprise. 

"Ma  foi,  every  duel  is  dangerous.      The  swords  are 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY 

sharp,  and  every  pistol — I  have  loaded  hundreds  of 
them — is  ready  and  willing  to  kill  its  man.  It  is  the 
duellists  who  are  at  fault.  They  pierce  an  arm  instead 
of  a  body,  or  are  nervous  at  the  moment  of  firing.  Make 
no  mistake,  Monsieur.  Every  duel  is  a  serious  affair." 
And  Severin-Blanchard  brought  his  hand  down  with  a 
loud  bang  on  his  desk. 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  wanted  to  know,"  said 
Antoine.  "Then  as  Dupuy  is  a  deadly  fencer,  perhaps 
it  will  be  better  for  our  friend  to  fight  him  with  pistols." 

"But  on  the  contrary,  Dupuy  is  a  dead  shot  and  can- 
not fence  at  all." 

"Cannot  fence  at  all!"  cried  Antoine.  "But  he  has 
pinked  his  man  severely  on  every  occasion  he  has  gone 
out." 

M.  Severin-Blanchard  laughed  his  rich  laugh. 

"That  is  true,  but  all  the  same  he  knows  no  more 
about  the  sword  than  does  your  friend.  He  has  a  little 
secret.  Tenez!  I  will  show  you."  He  rose  and  de- 
tached from  the  wall  a  pair  of  foils.  "Take  this — 
have  no  fear,  there  is  a  button  on  the  end.  Put  your- 
self in  position.  On  guard !  The  duel  is  about  to  com- 
mence. We  are  standing  so — is  it  not — ready  for  the 
combat.  To  start  the  combat  the  arbitre  calls  out  the 
famous  words — I  have  called  them,  ah !  how  many  hun- 
dreds of  times — 'Allez,  Messieurs !'  r 

"It  is  the  almost  invariable  custom  for  the  adversaries 
not  to  cross  swords  until  the  two  words  'Allez,  Messieurs !' 
have  been  cried.  But  it  is  quite  within  his  right  for  a 
duellist  to  attack  the  moment  the  arbitre  has  said  'Allez.' 
The  'Allez !'  is  the  command.  The  'Messieurs'  is  merely 
a  polite  addition  to  the  word  of  command.  You  follow 
me?" 

"Parfaitement." 

"Then  I  will  show  you.      You,  Monsieur,"  he  turned 


210      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

to  Bourdot,  "will  start  the  combat  by  shouting  'Allez, 
Messieurs!'  And  you  will  see  how  Dupuy  always  wins, 
and  why  his  combats  only  last  one  second — just  one 
short  second.  Ready!" 

"Allez,  ..."  cried  Bourdot — but  had  not  time  to 
say  more. 

Like  a  flash  Severin-Blanohard  lunged  forward,  his 
foil  striking  Antoine  in  the  shoulder  and  bending  under 
the  shock. 

The  director  of  duels  recovered  himself. 

"The  duel  is  over.  You  would  now  be  lying  on  the 
grass  with  the  doctors  busily  cutting  the  shirt  away 
from  your  shoulder.  I  should  be  lighting  a  cigarette 
and  receiving  the  congratulations  of  my  friends.  Is  it 
not  clear?" 

"As  daylight,"  said  Antoine.  "I  thank  you  for  your 
brilliant  exposition.  I  had  no  idea  that  a  duel  might 
be  won  so  easily.  Dupuy's  secret  is  worth  knowing." 

"Do  not  forget  that  he  allies  with  it  marvelous  quick- 
ness and  energy,  and  a  perfect  sang-froid.  He  is 
afraid  of  nothing.  And  now  in  what  further  way  can 
I  serve  you  gentlemen?" 

"We  wish,  if  you  could  so  honor  us,  that  you  should 
be  the  arbitre  of  this  duel.  And  there  are  a  number  of 
details  in  which,  with  the  time  at  our  disposal,  we  find  a 
certain  difficulty — the  choice  of  a  doctor,  the  drawing 
up  of  the  pr aces-verbal,  a  delicate  task  for  which  none 
is  so  well  fitted  as  yourself — and  others.  .  .  . " 

"Say  no  more.  If  the  seconds  of  M.  Dupuy  have  no 
objection — and  I  do  not  anticipate  any — I  shall  be  glad 
to  preside  at  this  duel.  And  as  to  the  pr aces-verbal 
that  is  a  simple  matter.  We  will  draw  it  up  now.  You 
suggest  then  that  M.  Morissot  meets  his  adversary 
sword  in  hand." 

"Yes,  the  sword." 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY 

"But  if  Dupuy  is  so  terrible  with  this  weapon !"  inter- 
jected Bourdot. 

"But  thanks  to  M.  Severin-Blanchard  we  know  his 
method,  do  we  not?"  said  Antoine  looking  hard  at  his 
friend. 

"Ah,  precisely."  A  look  of  understanding  came  into 
Bourdot's  eyes. 

"With  swords  then."  Severin-Blanchard  began  to 
write.  For  ten  minutes  his  pen  scratched  away  busily 
on  a  task  of  which  he  never  tired.  At  the  end  of  his 
writing  he  read  out  the  proposed  conditions  of  the  duel. 
The  document  was  a  model  of  its  kind,  rich  in  fine  and 
sonorous  phrases. 

"Admirable,"  said  Antoine  enthusiastically.  "With 
that  in  hand  we  can  meet  the  seconds  of  our  adversary 
with  every  confidence  to-morrow." 

They  took  their  leave  a  few  minutes  later  with  many 
expressions  of  warm  thanks  for  the  help  and  courtesy 
extended  to  them. 

"Vraiment,  he  is  a  splendid  fellow,  this  Severin- 
Blanchard,"  said  Antoine  when  they  were  out  in  the 
street  again.  "Who  would  think  that  he  is  the  hero 
of  a  score  and  more  of  duels?  And  thanks  to  him  I 
see  daylight  for  friend  Morissot.  It  will  be  excellent 
if  he  skewers  the  redoubtable  Dupuy." 

"If.     But  do  you  think  he  has  any  real  chance?" 

"Every  chance.  Do  you  not  see?  Severin-Blanchard 
not  only  showed  us  how  Dupuy  fights.  He  also  showed 
us — without  intending  it — how  Morissot  may  counter 
him.  At  the  word  'Allez!'  Morissot  instantly  steps 
backwards.  Dupuy  by  this  time  has  lunged  forward, 
his  blow  is  spent  and  Morissot  has  him  at  his  mercy,  to 
pink  him  where  he  pleases.  One  thrust  and  the  duel  is 
over.  To-morrow  early  we  must  find  a  salle  d'armes, 
and  there  we  will  practice  this  stroke  with  him.  Morissot 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

can  be  as  cool  as  a  fish.      With  a  little  tuition  from  us 
he  will  acquit  himself  splendidly  on  the  field  of  honor. 


Ill 


Two  days  later  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  Antoine 
and  Bourdot  drove  to  Morissot's  apartment  in  the  Rue 
de  Faubourg  St.  Honore.  They  had  acquired  a  sump- 
tuous automobile  for  the  occasion,  and  Antoine  nursed  a 
bright  new  pair  of  duelling  swords. 

They  found  Morissot  just  finishing  a  very  light 
breakfast.  He  was  dressed  ready  to  go  out,  and  ap- 
peared quite  calm,  if  a  trifle  pale.  He  greeted  his 
friends  with  a  smile. 

"You  have  slept  well?"  asked  Antoine  anxiously. 

"Not  at  all  badly.  I  had  a  little  writing  to  do."  He 
handed  a  sealed  packet  to  Antoine.  "You  understand— 
if  by  any  chance  anything  should  happen." 

"Ah,  bah,  but  nonsense,  my  dear  friend,"  cried 
Antoine  boisterously  to  hide  the  emotion  that  overcame 
him  at  this  incident.  "Your  fiery  Dupuy's  as  good  as 
vanquished  already.  You  behaved  splendidly  at  the 
salle  d'armes  yesterday."  Antoine  put  himself  into  the 
attitude  of  a  fencer.  "Your  action  was  perfect." 

"Allez:  back,  p-s-s-t,  got  him!  Ca  y  estf  Two 
seconds  and  the  duel  is  over.  He  will  be  the  most  sur- 
prised man  in  Paris." 

"It  will  not  be  my  fault  if  he  isn't,"  said  Morissot. 
"That  I  promise  you.  But  before  we  go — a  handshake, 
dear  friends.  Thanks  for  all  you  have  done  for  me." 

At  this  Antoine  kissed  his  friend  warmly  on  both 
cheeks,  and  Bourdot  did  the  same.  They  shook  hands 
silently. 

"And  now,  come  along,"  said  Antoine  briskly.      "The 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  213 

meeting  is  for  ten-thirty,  and  we  have  the  doctor  to  pick 
up  on  the  way.  You  can  thank  our  friend  Severin- 
Blanohard  that  it  is  not  five  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
He  has  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  abolishing  those 
absurdly  early  duels.  'Why  not  let  a  man  sleep  and 
breakfast  in  comfort,  and  go  to  the  field  with  a  light 
heart,'  he  said.  Fancy  getting  up  at  five  o'clock  to  fight 
a  duel.  Brrrh!  But  at  ten-thirty  one  has  slept  and 
had  breakfast — it  is  little  worse  than  going  to  the 
barber's." 

And  he  rattled  on  in  apparent  high  spirits,  trying  to 
give  the  illusion  that  going  out  to  fight  a  duel  was  a 
most  amiable  and  amusing  way  of  passing  the  morning. 

They  picked  up  the  doctor  in  the  Avenue  de  la 
Grande  Armee,  where  he  was  standing  at  a  corner  wait- 
ing, a  case  of  instruments  under  his  arm.  Antoine  and 
Bourdot  had  had  a  short  interview  with  him  on  the 
previous  day.  He  was  now  presented  to  Morissot,  and 
the  two  cordially  shook  hands. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  morning,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Glorious,"  returned  Morissot. 

Nobody  looked  at  the  case  which  the  doctor  was  now 
carefully  depositing  under  the  seat. 

The  automobile  sped  smoothly  down  the  broad  Avenue 
de  la  Grande  Armee  out  through  the  Porte  Maillot,  and 
along  the  Avenue  de  Neuilly.  The  place  for  the  en- 
counter had  been  selected  by  Severin-Blanchard.  He 
possessed  a  small  intelligence  service  peculiarly  his  own, 
by  which  he  heard  of  all  sorts  of  suitable  spots  in  which 
a  duel  could  take  place  without  fear  of  interruption. 
For  the  present  occasion  he  had  chosen  the  grounds  of  a 
villa  at  Neuilly  which  belonged  to  an  acquaintance  of  his 
and  had  been  empty  for  some  time. 

The  car  turned  down  a  broad  and  quiet  avenue  linecl 
with  large  houses,  each  one  standing  in  its  own  grounds. 


,THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

It  stopped  outside  a  handsome  villa,  with  white  walls  and 
dark  green  latticed  shutters,  where  another  motor  car 
was  already  stationed.  The  party  got  out,  unlatched 
a  big  wooden  gate,  followed  a  graveled  path  that  led  to 
the  back  of  the  villa  and  found  themselves  on  a  large  and 
secluded  lawn. 

Severin-Blanchard  was  already  there,  examining  the 
ground,  and  came  forward  to  meet  them. 

"You  are  early,  Messieurs,"  he  said,  with  a  sweep  of 
his  hat,  "but  I  expect  the  others  here  at  any  moment 
now.  M.  Dupuy  is  always  well  in  time." 

As  they  spoke  there  was  a  click  at  the  gate,  and  in  a 
moment  Dupuy  appeared  with  his  two  seconds  and  his 
surgeon.  The  Deputy  walked  with  a  confident  and 
even  nonchalant  air.  He  had  the  easy  look  of  a  man 
who  regarded  a  duel  as  a  mere  bagatelle.  At  the  first 
sight  of  him  Antoine  felt  that  Morissot  had  indeed  a 
redoubtable  adversary. 

"How  do  you  feel,  mon  vieux,"  he  asked. 

"Quite  as  well  as  can  be  expected,"  replied  Morissot. 
He  was  wearing  his  monocle,  and  appeared  to  be  as  calm 
as  anybody  present.  Only  a  touch  of  pallor  in  his 
cheeks  showed  that  he  was  fully  alive  to  the  situation. 

"And  the  lessons  we  had  yesterday — it  all  comes  back 
to  you?" 

"Perfectly.  I  shall  not  forget  what  it  is  necessary 
to  do." 

Severin-Blanchard  was  now  exchanging  a  few  words 
with  Dupuy,  and  the  two  doctors  were  in  consultation. 
Antoine  and  Bourdot  greeted  the  two  seconds  of  la  partie 
adverse,  and  exchanged  a  few  polite  phrases.  From 
the  corner  of  his  eye  Antoine  noticed  that  Severin- 
Blanchard,  a  look  of  supreme  content  on  his  handsome 
picturesque  face,  was  sterilizing  a  pair  of  foils  in  burn- 
ing alcohol.  All  was  ready. 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  215 

The  two  friends  went  back  to  Morissot  and  assisted 
him  to  take  off  his  jacket  and  waistcoat.  Everything 
was  very  quiet  and  still  and  Antoine  felt  a  slight  sinking 
'beneath  his  waistcoat,  as  if  he  himself  were  about  to 
fight.  It  seemed  a  very  cold-blooded  business.  Nobody 
showed  a  trace  of  anger  or  excitement.  Why  should 
two  men  be  preparing  to  skewer  each  other? 

The  two  adversaries  were  now  in  line,  facing  each 
other;  Dupuy,  small,  round,  compact  and  heavily 
bearded,  with  resolution  gleaming  in  his  dark  eyes; 
Morissot  tall  and  spare  and  with  a  look  Antoine  had 
never  seen  bef  jre  on  his  usually  languid  face. 

Severin-Blanchard  approached  the  two  men,  holding 
a  light  cane  with  which  he  was  ready  at  any  moment  to 
intervene  in  the  combat  and  strike  up  the  swords  of  the 
duellists.  He  addressed  a  few  words  to  the  combatants, 
relative  to  the  conditions  of  the  encounter,  and  then  took 
up  a  position  a  few  paces  away,  the  cane  lightly  poised 
in  his  hand. 

The  moment  had  come.  Antoine  gripped  Bourdot's 
arm.  Would  Morissot  remember  his  lesson? 

Severin-Blanchard  took  a  breath. 

"Allez,    .     .    ,     !" 

Like  a  flash  at  the  first  syllable  the  little  Deputy 
rushed  forward,  his  blade  aimed  straight  at  Morissot's 
chest.  But  in  the  same  moment  Morissot  leaped  nimbly 
back,  and  the  point  of  his  adversary's  sword  stopped  an 
inch  from  his  shirt.  The  Deputy  was  now  fully  ex- 
tended, his  legs  wide  apart  and  body  thrown  far  for- 
ward. And  even  as  the  word  "Messieurs"  came  from 
the  referee  of  the  duel,  Morissot  made  a  step  to  the  left 
and  calmly  and  resolutely  thrust  his  blade  well  into  the 
upper  arm  of  the  Deputy. 

There  came  a  cry  from  M.  Dupuy,  not  so  much  be- 
cause of  the  pain  of  the  wound  as  of  surprise  and  anger 


216      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

at  the  unexpected  way  in  which  affairs  had  turned.  He 
dropped  his  sword  and  rapped  out  an  oath  rich  with  the 
rolling  r's  of  the  South: 

"Tonnerre  de  Dieu!" 

His  doctor  rushed  up  at  once.  M.  Dupuy  had 
turned  very  white,  and  was  tottering  a  little.  He  was 
helped  gently  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  the  doctor,  cut- 
ing  away  the  shirt,  made  a  rapid  examination  of  the 
wound,  the  seconds  of  M.  Dupuy  and  Morissot's  doctor 
standing  by. 

Antoine  and  Bourdot  wrung  their  comrade's  hand  and 
heaped  congratulations  on  him.  The  voice  of  Dupuy 
could  be  heard  faintly  protesting  that  he  wished  to  go 
on  with  the  fight,  to  which  his  doctor  was  replying 
soothingly  as  he  dressed  the  wound. 

"I  hope  he  is  not  too  badly  hurt,"  said  Morissot. 

"Nothing  like  so  badly  as  you  would  have  been  had 
anything  gone  wrong,"  said  Antoine.  "Dupuy  aimed 
straight  for  your  ribs." 

For  the  first  time  Antoine  had  an  opportunity  to  look 
round  him,  and  was  surprised  to  find  how  extensive  were 
the  grounds  in  which  they  stood.  From  the  lawn  no 
other  house  was  visible.  Lighting  a  cigarette  he  went 
on  a  little  voyage  of  exploration.  The  lawn  gave  place 
to  a  well-kept  shrubbery,  and  pushing  on  through  this 
Antoine  found  to  his  surprise  that  the  grounds  sloped 
down  sharply  to  the  Seine.  At  the  edge  of  the  water 
a  skiff  was  tied  up  near  a  little  boathouse.  The  wooded 
edge  of  an  island  faced  the  garden  about  thirty  yards 
across  the  river.  On  both  its  main  sides  the  property 
was  bounded  by  high  walls.  It  was  a  surprisingly 
secluded  spot,  and  Antoine  decided  that  it  would  be  a 
charming  place  to  live  in. 

But  it  was  time  to  be  going,  and  he  turned  back 
towards  the  lawn.  With  the  exception  of  Bourdot  and 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  217 

Morissot,  who  were  standing  apart  talking,  everybody 
was  still  gathered  round  the  wounded  man.  And  then, 
looking  beyond  towards  the  villa  Antoine  saw  something 
that  made  him  halt  abruptly. 

At  one  of  the  upper  windows  was  the  face  of  a  man 
looking  down  intently  on  the  scene  passing  on  the  lawn. 
It  was  a  strong,  clean  shaven  face,  pale  and  surmounted 
by  a  shock  of  dark  hair.  Antoine  felt  for  the  moment 
that  he  must  be  dreaming.  But  there  was  no  possible 
doubt.  It  was  the  face  of  Bertoli,  the  world-famous 
Italian  tenor,  the  idol  of  fashionable  Europe  and 
America ! 

Well-screened  himself  from  observation  Antoine  stood 
and  watched.  Bertoli  half  turned  round  as  if  to  speak 
to  someone  in  the  room,  and  a  moment  later  Antoine 
could  just  make  out  the  faint  outline  of  a  woman  stand- 
ing behind  him.  Except  that  she  had  fair  hair  and  was 
evidently  young,  Antoine  could  see  nothing  more. 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  group  on  the  lawn,  and 
the  two  faces  abruptly  disappeared.  Dupuy  was  now 
on  his  feet  again,  and  Antoine  rejoined  his  friends  who 
were  now  talking  to  Severin-Blanchard. 

"Did  you  say  this  villa  was  empty?"  Antoine  asked 
the  director  of  the  combat. 

"But  of  course,  or  we  should  not  be  here.  It  has 
been  empty  for  six  months  or  more.  It  belongs  to  my 
friend  the  Comte  de  Peyrac,  who  is  now  traveling  in  the 
East.  Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Nothing,  but  it  occurred  to  me  that  for  an  empty 
villa  the  grounds  and  everything  about  it  are  kept  in 
excellent  order.  .  .  .  It  is  a  charming  place." 

Ten  minutes  later  they"  were  rolling  back  swiftly 
towards  Paris  and  on  the  same  road,  but  proceeding 
very  slowly  to  avoid  jolting,  came  Dupuy  and  his 
friends.  Through  the  ministrations  of  Severin- 


218      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Blanchard  a  reconciliation  had  been  effected  and 
Morissot  had  shaken  the  uninjured  arm  of  his  opponent. 

Bourdot  was  humming  a  gay  song  as  they  sped  back 
towards  the  city.  The  Arc  de  Triomphe  loomed  up 
again,  at  the  end  of  the  leafy  vista  of  the  Avenue  de  la 
Grande  Armee. 

"That  is  a  splendid  sight  after  an  anxious  morning," 
Bourdot  cried.  "We  will  have  the  best  luncheon  Paris 
can  give  us."  He  clacked  his  tongue. 

"What  say  you,  Antoine?  Where  shall  we  go?  The 
Cafe  de  Paris — the  Cafe  Anglais — where?  Morissot 
has  no  say  in  this  matter." 

"Where?"  said  Antoine  absently.  "Anywhere  you 
please.  .  .  .  But  no.  I  have  a  fancy,  if  it  is  agree- 
able to  you  both,  to  go  to  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix." 

It  had  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  on  his  rare  pro- 
fessional visits  to  Paris  this  was  the  restaurant  most 
favored  by  Bertoli. 


IV 


As  has  been  said  more  than  once,  if  you  are  in  search 
of  any  particular  person  you  have  only  to  sit  long 
enough  on  the  terrace  outside  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  and 
sooner  or  later  the  object  of  your  search  is  bound  to 
pass.  This  rule  does  not  apply  to  the  restaurant 
inside,  but  Antoine  and  his  two  friends  had  been  sitting 
there  at  luncheon  for  only  half  an  hour  or  more  when 
there  was  a  sudden  show  of  interest  and  turning  of 
heads,  and  Bertoli  entered.  What  interested  Antoine 
even  more  was  that  the  famous  tenor  was  accompanied 
by  a  young  woman  with  a  head  of  glorious  fair  hair. 
They  sat  down  at  a  table  not  far  away  and  Antoine 
could  now  see  that  Bertoli's  companion  was  decidedly 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  219 

beautiful.  The  two  attracted  a  great  deal  of  atten- 
tion, but  they  seemed  not  to  notice  it,  so  much  were  they 
interested  in  each  other. 

Bourdot,  scenting  copy,  was  awake  on  the  instant. 

"I  wonder  who  she  is?  What  a  complexion.  She 
is  a  beauty.  English  or  American?  There  is  no 
doubt  about  it,  there  are  beautiful  women  even  outside 
France." 

"Do  not  look  so  closely  at  them,"  said  Antoine.  "I 
have  something  to  tell  you."  And  he  recounted  what 
he  had  seen  after  the  duel. 

Bourdot  and  Morissot  were  amazed. 

"Then  this  empty  villa  is  not  empty,"  exclaimed  the 
hero  of  the  morning. 

"That  is  the  conclusion  I  came  to  instantly,"  replied 
Antoine  drily.  "The  point  is  why  is  Bertoli  hiding 
himself  in  this  secluded  villa  with  the  charming  creature 
we  now  see  sitting  beside  him?  No  doubt  it  is  simply  a 
little  love  affair,  in  which  case  we  may  let  our  interest 
in  it  end  here.  Who  are  we  to  sit  as  judges  on  the 
intimate  aif  airs  of  the  most  noted  singer  in  the  universe  ? 
But  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  there  may  be  something 
more  behind  it.  That  villa  is  certainly  supposed  to  be 
empty.  If  not  the  present  occupants  would  have  re- 
vealed themselves  this  morning  and  prayed  us  to  go  and 
fight  our  duels  elsewhere.  But  instead,  they  peeped 
guiltily  from  a  window  and  disappeared  the  moment 
they  were  in  danger  of  being  observed.  I  think  there 
may  be  something  in  this  for  La  Lumiere." 

"They  have  just  looked  this  way,"  said  Bourdot. 

"Yes,  but  they  don't  know  that  they  were  observed 
this  morning.  They  are  merely  interested  at  the  coinci- 
dence of  finding  us  here.  And  by  the  way,  who  is  this 
Comte  de  Peyrac  to  whom  we  are  told  the  villa  belongs?" 

Bourdot  obliged  with  alacrity. 


220       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Sportsman  and  man  about  town.  Young,  fairly 
wealthy,  takes  a  keen  interest  in  aviation.  Has  had 
many  love  affairs.  I  have  not  heard  anything  of  him 
for  some  time  past.  I  suppose  that,  as  Severin- 
Blanchard  said,  he  must  be  abroad.  Where  does  he 
come  in?" 

"Well,  either  he  is  a  friend  of  Bertoli's  or  Bertoli  has 
entered  the  villa  burglariously,  which  is  not  likely.  By 
the  way,  when  does  Bertoli  appear  next  at  the  Opera?" 

"To-night  in  Manon." 

"I  have  never  heard  him.  If  it  is  possible  to  get  a 
ticket  at  such  a  late  hour  I  will  give  myself  that  pleasure 
this  evening." 

"Leave  it  to  me,  and  you  shall  have  the  ticket  if  it  is 
humanly  possible.  The  place  is  packed  every  night  he 
sings  and  there  is  always  a  crowd  clamoring  for  admit- 
tance. It  will  not  be  easy,  but  I  think  I  shall  be  able 
to  manage  it." 

"Bon  Dieu,  but  what  a  position,"  sighed  Antoine. 
"The  world  hanging  on  every  note  you  sing,  gold  roll- 
ing in  by  the  barrel,  ladies  sighing  for  your  smile.  It 
is  better  than  being  an  Emperor." 

They  rose  from  their  table  a  few  moments  later  and 
went  out  leaving  Bertoli  and  his  fair  companion  still  in 
the  restaurant.  Antoine  was  sorry  to  lose  sight  of  the 
tenor,  but  it  was  obvious  that  even  if  there  were  any- 
thing more  than  usually  interesting  in  the  affair  of  the 
villa  at  Neuilly,  there  was  no  possibility  of  following  it 
up  immediately. 

The  three  directors  separated  outside,  hurrying  off 
to  pressing  affairs  that  had  been  neglected  in  the  excite- 
ment of  preparing  for  the  duel.  Arrived  at  the  office, 
Antoine  first  of  all  gave  a  few  particulars  to  Durand 
and  sent  him  out  on  a  tour  of  investigation. 

It  was  towards  six  in  the  evening,  and  Antoine,  busy 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY 

at  work,  had  forgotten  for  the  moment  the  events  of  the 
morning,  when  Bourdot  entered  his  room  waving  a 
flimsy  piece  of  paper. 

"It  would  sound  like  a  romantic  novel  if  I  described 
to  you  the  shifts  to  which  I  have  been  put  to  get  this 
ticket,"  he  announced.  "My  quest  ended  at  the 
Ministry  of  the  Interior.  But  there  you  are.  The 
President  himself  could  not  have  performed  a  greater 
miracle." 

"A  thousand  thanks,  mon  cher  Bourdot.  You  will 
be  there  yourself,  of  course." 

"Box  twelve  on  the  second  tier  will  find  me.  We  will 
meet  during  the  entr*  acte." 

Some  two  and  a  half  hours  later  Antoine  ascended  the 
splendid  staircase  of  the  Opera  House.  He  was  but 
one  of  hundreds  who  had  entered  the  doors  of  the  great 
building  at  the  same  moment.  It  hurt  the  pride  of 
Parisians  a  little  that  Bertoli,  who  was  not  one  of  them, 
should  pack  the  national  temple  of  music  as  no  one  else 
could,  but  this  did  not  prevent  Paris  from  flocking  to 
hear  him  on  the  very  few  occasions  when  his  fabulous 
engagements  in  New  York,  London  and  elsewhere,  per- 
mitted him  to  pay  a  rare  visit. 

Antoine  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  and  excitement  as  he 
settled  down  in  his  stall  and  looked  round  the  huge 
auditorium  with  its  tiers  of  boxes  and  far-away  gal- 
leries. The  air  was  vibrant  with  the  hum  of  conver- 
sation from  thousands  of  people.  The  name  of  Bertoli 
was  spoken  on  every  hand,  and  those  who  had  heard  him 
before  were  importantly  assuring  those  who  had  not 
what  a  wonder  and  delight  lay  in  store  for  them. 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  delay,  which  was  received 
with  calm,  as  being  the  way  of  the  Opera,  the  splendid 
orchestra  played  the  overture  to  "Manon."  There  was 
another  pause  after  this,  and  the  audience  sat  in  mo- 


222       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

mentary  expectation  of  seeing  the  curtain  rise.  But 
the  minutes  ran  on,  and  signs  of  impatience  began  to 
show  themselves.  Half  an  hour  late!  This  was  too 
much.  Again  the  orchestra  attacked  the  overture,  and 
at  this  people  said  sagely  that  evidently  there  had  been 
a  little  delay  of  some  kind,  and  the  curtain  would  now 
rise  the  moment  the  orchestra  had  finished.  But  again 
there  was  a  pause,  and  the  great  multitude  fidgeted. 
There  came  a  few  whistles  and  shouts  from  the  gallery 
and  gradually  the  shouting  gathered  in  volume  until 
thousands  of  people  were  shouting  "Curtain,  curtain!" 
in  chorus.  This  orderly  demand  soon  gave  way  to  a 
confused  uproar  in  which  impatient  and  angry  people 
gare  rent  to  their  feelings  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  Pres- 
ently with  the  tumult  at  its  height  there  was  a  move- 
ment in  the  center  of  the  vast  curtain,  and  a  small  figure 
in  evening  dress  stood  facing  the  great  audience. 

Quiet  was  obtained  with  difficulty.  The  personage  in 
evening  dress,  obviously  disliking  his  task,  then  an- 
nounced that  owing  to  an  unforeseen  circumstance 
Bertoli  was  unable  to  appear  that  evening.  This  was 
deeply  to  be  regretted,  but  he  had  pleasure  in  saying 
that  an  excellent  remplagant  in  the  person  of  Monsieur 
Jules  Dubosq  would  sing  the  part  of  des  Grieux. 

M.  Dubosq  must  have  been  excessively  annoyed  at  the 
demonstration  that  followed.  The  great  house  burst 
into  a  tornado  of  rage  and  disappointment.  To  be  told 
this  after  waiting  impatiently  for  nearly  an  hour! 
Antoine  turned  round  in  his  seat  and  looked  on  what 
seemed  to  be  an  angry  sea.  Thousands  of  people 
below  and  aloft  who  had  paid  high  prices  to  see  Bertoli 
were  shouting  and  waving  their  arms.  It  was  an  im- 
pressive sight,  but  Antoine  was  thinking  of  something 
else.  What  was  behind  this  nonappearance  of  Bertoli? 
He  left  his  seat  and  as  quickly  as  possible  made  his  way 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  223 

to  the  box  in  which  Bourdot  had  said  he  would  be. 
Opening  it  without  ceremony  Antoine  saw  Bourdot,  in 
the  middle  of  a  party  of  friends,  looking  down  on  the 
extraordinary  scene  of  the  most  majestic  theatre  in  the 
world  given  up  to  pandemonium.  Antoine  took  his  arm 
and  drew  him  out  into  the  corridor. 

"Eh  bien,  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  he  demanded 
sharply. 

"It  is  an  amazing  sight,"  said  Bourdot  fervently, 
"I  have  never  seen  anything  like  it." 

"Peste,  I  am  not  referring  to  that  absurd  exhibition ! 
A  lot  of  foolish  people  howling  because  they  cannot 
have  their  money's  worth.  Let  them  howl!  But 
Bertoli  and  the  villa  at  Neuilly !  Now  what  do  you  say? 
Is  it  merely  coincidence,  or  is  there  something  sinister 
behind  this?  Bertoli  would  not  dare  to  disappoint  the 
public  without  grave  cause.  He  was  in  perfect  health 
this  morning." 

Bourdot  opened  his  eyes  wide. 

"Dame,  I  had  not  thought  of  that !  .  .  .  Bon  Dieu, 
but  perhaps  you  are  right !  Wait.  I  will  get  my  hat 
and  coat."  He  darted  back  into  the  box,  and  was  by 
Antoine's  side  again  in  an  instant. 

"It  would  be  as  well  before  starting  out  on  this  affair 
to  find  out  what  the  official  version  is  here  of  Bertoli's 
failure  to  appear.  You  know  this  place,  is  it  not  ?" 

"I  have  the  run  of  it.  It  is  a  privilege  accorded  to 
few,"  said  Bourdot  proudly.  "Come  with  me." 

He  started  off  at  a  run  along  the  corridor,  descended 
an  unexpected  staircase  and  stopped  before  a  small  door 
at  which  an  imposing  individual  wearing  a  large  silver 
chain  round  his  neck  was  stationed.  Bourdot  said 
something,  slipped  a  five-franc  pjece  into  the  man's 
hand  and  the  magic  door  opened  to  them. 

A  few  steps  forward  and  they  found  themselves  in  a 


224      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

vast  and  lofty  region  of  canvas  and  cordage.  Groups 
of  people,  some  of  them  rouged  and  in  the  costume  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  were  standing  here  and  there, 
their  faces  drawn  and  serious.  An  overwhelming  up- 
roar still  came  from  the  audience,  and  here,  behind  the 
scenes,  it  seemed  in  no  wise  ridiculous,  but  wholly  alarm- 
ing. Antoine  had  a  sudden  rush  of  sympathy  for  those 
who  had  to  face  such  unpleasant  music. 

The  stage  was  set  for  the  first  scene  of  Manon — the 
inn  at  Amiens,  where  des  Grieux  first  meets  his  charmer. 
Here  were  assembled  a  number  of  important-looking 
people  belonging  to  the  Opera  House  and  one  of  them 
stood  a  little  apart,  his  face  contorted  as  if  with  the 
effort  to  shut  out  the  noise  that  came  from  beyond  the 
lowered  curtain.  Here  Bourdot  approached,  and  spoke 
loudly  in  his  ear. 

"Why  has  Bertoli  not  appeared?"  he  cried. 

"He  is  indisposed,"  came  the  answer  faintly. 

"Non,  mais  voyons!"  cried  Bourdot.  "What  is  the 
real  reason?" 

The  official  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  threw  his 
hands  up  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 

"We  know  as  much  as  you.  He  is  not  at  his  hotel. 
We  have  scoured  Paris  for  him.  He  is  not  to  be  found 
anywhere.  We  are  desperate.  That  is  all."  And  the 
distracted  man  turned  away. 

Bourdot  gave  Antoine  the  news. 

"That  is  enough.  Come,  to  the  office  first.  Durand 
may  have  found  out  something  that  will  help  us." 

Bourdot  led  him  swiftly  along  a  maze  of  corridors 
where  at  last  the  noise  of  the  audience  grew  faint,  and 
so  out  of  the  rear  of  the  building  by  a  door  unknown  to 
the  public.  They  ran  towards  the  boulevard,  picked  up 
a  taxi  at  the  corner  and  a  few  minutes  later  were  bound- 
ing up  the  office  steps. 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  225 

They  found  Durand  engaged  with  the  head  printer 
in  the  exciting  sport  of  throwing  darts  at  a  board. 
Durand  followed  them  at  once  into  Antoine's  room. 

"What  do  you  know?"  said  Antoine. 

"Not  much,"  replied  the  office  investigator.  "Bertoli 
has  been  staying  at  the  Majestic,  as  he  usually  does. 
But  as  far  as  I  can  make  out  he  is  seen  there  very  little. 
He  seems  to  pass  his  nights  outside.  I  got  this  from 
a  clerk  in  the  reception  office.  But  where  he  goes  to 
I've  no  idea,  and  I  don't  think  anybody  at  the  hotel 
knew  either." 

"And  the  Comte  de  Peyrac?" 

"I  have  searched  for  him  everywhere  but  I  am  sure 
he  is  not  in  Paris.  There  seems  no  doubt  of  his  being 
abroad,  but  where  I  can't  find  out." 

"Hm !  There  is  not  much  in  all  that,  is  there  ?  There 
is  only  one  thing  to  do.  We  must  go  to  Neuilly  and 
see  what  that  brings  forth  ...  It  will  be  very  dark 
round  that  villa.  Can  you  put  your  hand  on  such  a 
thing  as  an  electric  torch,  Durand?" 

"I  have  one  in  my  desk.     I  will  get  it." 

He  returned  in  a  moment  with  the  torch  and  some- 
thing else  that  shone  brightly. 

"I  don't  know  what  the  affair  is,  but  is  this  likely 
to  be  useful?"  He  handed  over  a  handy-looking  re- 
volver. "Careful.  It  is  loaded." 

"Excellent"  said  Antoine  pocketing  both.  "I  have 
neved  used  one,  but  it  gives  a  feeling  of  security  to 
have  it  there.  Bourdot  mon  cher,  you  had  better  return 
to  the  Opera  and  watch  developments  there.  Durand, 
you  come  along  with  me  to  Neuilly.  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it  on  the  way  out." 


226      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 


HALF  an  hour  later  they  stopped  their  taxi  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  villa.  Antoine  bestowed  a  substantial 
tip  on  the  driver,  and  told  him  to  wait  patiently,  no 
matter  for  how  long. 

"I  have  an  idea,"  he  said  as  they  walked  along.  "It 
is  possible  there  is  nothing  in  all  this,  and  we  might 
look  foolish  if  caught  prowling  about  the  grounds  of 
a  villa  at  night.  We  will  say,  in  that  case,  that  a 
valuable  diamond  ring  was  lost  during  the  duel  this 
morning,  and  that  we  have  come  to  look  for  it.  And 
mind,  we  understand  always  that  the  place  is  empty." 

They  came  to  the  gate.  The  front  of  the  villa  facing 
the  avenue  was  dark,  giving  no  sign  of  life.  Antoine 
gently  tried  the  gate.  It  opened  and  they  passed  cau- 
tiously along  the  path  to  the  back  of  the  villa. 

Gradually  they  gained  the  lawn.  It  was  an  eerie 
adventure  and  Antoine  felt  anything  but  cheerful  as 
they  stood  there  in  the  black  darkness.  There  was  no 
sound  but  the  mournful  rustling  of  the  wind  in  the 
trees.  Then  from  somewhere  on  the  river  came  the 
melancholy  hoot  of  a  tug.  It  died  away  in  a  wail, 
leaving  the  silence  more  depressing  than  before. 

In  an  upstairs  room  a  light  was  burning.  It  was  the 
room  in  which  Antoine  had  seen  Bertoli  that  morning. 
He  whispered  this  information  to  his  companion. 

"What  are  we  to  do  next?"  whispered  Durand  in 
reply. 

"Ma  foi,  I  don't  quite  know,"  returned  Antoine.  He 
felt  convinced  now  that  Bertoli  was  in  the  villa,  and 
that  some  unusual  cause  was  keeping  him  there.  But 
ihow  to  solve  the  mystery? 

"Does  the  river  flow  past  the  bottom  of  the  garden?" 

Antoine  explained  the  lie  of  the  grounds. 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  227 

"Listen,  then.  Is  not  that  the  sound  of  a  motor 
boat  approaching?" 

"You're  right.  .  .  .  Teuf !  teuf !  .  .  .  there  it  goes 
again." 

The  sounds  came  nearer  and  then  at  the  bottom  of 
the  garden  there  was  a  sudden  flurry  of  sound  from  a 
fussy  little  engine,  and  all  was  quiet  again. 

"Somebody  landing  here.  We  will  stay  where  we 
are,  and  take  our  chance,"  said  Antoine. 

The  two  waited,  strung  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  ner- 
vous tension.  It  seemed  ages  before  they  heard  any- 
thing more.  Then  there  was  the  sound  of  somebody 
advancing  through  the  shrubbery. 

These  sounds  ceased  and  Antoine  thought  he  heard 
the  faint  hiss  of  whispering.  Then  another  rustling 
of  bushes,  coming  nearer.  Presently  Antoine  felt  that 
somebody  was  standing  on  the  lawn  near  to  them.  He 
could  stand  the  suspense  no  longer.  In  any  case  some 
step  forward  had  to  be  made.  Almost  involuntarily  he 
pulled  the  electric  torch  from  his  pocket  and  pressed 
the  button. 

Antoine  nearly  fell  over  with  astonishment  at  what 
he  saw.  Standing  bathed  in  a  flood  of  intense  white 
light  was  Inspector  Sauvage,  and  with  him  his  faithful 
subordinate  Pince. 

Inspector  Sauvage  was  even  more  astonished.  His 
eyes  started  from  his  head  with  the  shock  of  this  unex- 
pected encounter.  His  aspect  of  surprise  and  conster- 
nation was  almost  comic.  But  he  soon  recovered  his 
composure  and  slipped  a  hand  quickly  into  a  side 
pocket. 

"Who  is  it  ?"  he  demanded  hoarsely,  raising  his  voice 
as  little  as  possible. 

"Have  no  fear,"  said  Antoine.  "It  is  I,  Antoine 
Poiret,  with  a  friend." 


228       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

In  his  turn  Sauvage  produced  a  pocket  lamp  and 
flashed  it  over  the  two.  He  took  a  quick  step  towards 
them,  and  there  was  another  expression  on  'his  face 
now. 

"Nom  de  D  .  .  .  /"  he  growled  savagely.  "Can 
one  never  get  rid  of  you  and  La  Lumiere  then  ?  Must 
one  find  you  everywhere?  How  much  do  you  know  of 
this  affair?" 

"Quite  a  lot,"  said  Antoine  confidently.  "But, 
voyez-vous,  Inspector,  there  is  no  need  to  get  angry 
with  us.  This  matter  has  developed  very  quickly  as 
far  as  I  am  concerned.  That  villa  conceals  something 
I  am  very  anxious  to  know.  But  the  affair  has  arrived 
at  a  point  where  extreme  delicacy  is  necessary,  and  I 
•was  just  wondering  in  what  way  I  could  soonest  get 
into  touch  with  you." 

"C'est  ires  gentil  de  votre  part,"  replied  the  In- 
spector most  sarcastically.  "But  I  have  had  this  villa 
under  observation  for  the  past  three  weeks." 

"And  as  Bertoli  failed  to  appear  at  the  Opera  to- 
night you  have  come  to  find  out  the  reason  why." 

"What!  Bertoli  did  not  appear  to-night  at  the 
Opera !  How  do  you  know  that  ?"  The  detective's 
voice  showed  that  the  news  was  a  disagreeable  shock 
to  him. 

"Parbleu,  I  was  there!  After  nearly  an  hour  of 
waiting  the  audience  shouted  for  him.  There  was  a 
scene  I  can  tell  you  when  it  was  announced  that  he 
could  not  appear." 

"Nom  d'un  nom!     And  the  reason?" 

"Officially  that  he  was  indisposed.  But  in  truth  the 
Opera  officials  had  scoured  Paris  for  him  and  could 
not  find  him.  They  had  no  idea  where  he  was." 

Sauvage  uttered  something  like  a  groan.     The  con- 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  229 

versation  had  taken  place  in  the  dark  but  Antoine 
could  feel  the  agitation  of  the  Inspector. 

"It  is  that  sacre  breakdown,"  the  voice  of  Pince 
broke  in. 

Sauvage  cursed  through  set  teeth. 

"Sacrebleu!  Every  night  for  three  weeks  we  have 
been  watching  and  nothing  has  happened.  To-night 
that  miserable  boat  broke  down  and  when  we  had 
patched  it  up  we  decided  to  come  on  here  before  going 
to  the  telephone.  Ah,  but  what  vile  luck.  Ah  mats 
.  .  .!" 

Sauvage  stopped  suddenly.  An  automobile  was  heard 
in  the  avenue.  It  stopped  outside  the  gate.  Voices 
were  heard,  and  the  click  of  the  gate.  Presently  a  lan- 
tern appeared  swinging  in  somebody's  hand  and  cast- 
ing a  waving  patch  of  light  on  the  ground. 

Who  was  it? 

Two  electric  torches  flashed  out.  They  showed  the 
picturesque  figure  of  Severin-Blanchard.  He  was  hold- 
ing the  lantern,  and  behind  him  stood  a  chauffeur. 

"What  the  devil  is  this?"  shouted  the  newcomer 
angrily  as  the  dazzling  light  struck  in  his  eyes.  "Who 
are  you?" 

Antoine  stepped  forward  and  shone  the  light  on  his 
own  fa  -e. 

"You !"  cried  Severin-Blanohard.  "Mais  c'est  extraor- 
dinaire. I  have  come  on  behalf  of  that  poor  Dupuy. 
He  is  a  little  feverish,  to-night  and  nothing  would  com- 
fort him  unless  I  came  here  at  once.  He  says  he  has 
lost  a  valuable  diamond  ring,  and  I  have  come  to  try 
'and  find  it." 

"Non,  mats  nom  d'une  pipe!"  murmured  Antoine. 


230       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 


VI 


EXPLANATIONS  were  hurried,  and  left  most  people  con- 
cerned in  some  bewilderment.  But  it  was  time  for 
action. 

"If  anybody  is  in  that  villa  they  must  know  by  now 
that  somebody  is  here  outside  it,"  said  Sauvage.  "To 
the  front,  quick,  Pince!  I  will  stay  here.  Stand  by 
the  door  and  let  nobody  come  out  of  it." 

He  flashed  his  lamp  boldly  over  the  house,  and  the 
light  danced  in  through  the  windows.  But  there  was 
no  sign  of  movement. 

Sauvage  mounted  a  small  flight  of  steps  leading  on 
to  a  terrace  and  knocked  loudly  at  the  door.  After  an 
interval  he  knocked  again  but  there  was  no  sign  that 
anybody  was  inside.  Then  he  tried  the  handle,  the  door 
opened  and  he  stepped  inside. 

Antoine  had  followed  him  closely  and  was  on  his 
heels  as  the  detective  entered  the  villa.  The  others 
followed.  Sauvage  turned  round  as  if  to  protest  but 
seemed  to  realize  that  circumstances  were  against  any 
autocratic  display  of  authority. 

Antoine  was  aflame  with  curiosity.  What  was  about 
to  be  revealed  to  them  in  the  mysterious  villa?  The 
detective  went  about  from  room  to  room  opening  doors 
and  flashing  his  light  into  every  corner.  It  was  a 
charmingly  planned  and  furnished  place  and  showed 
every  trace  of  being  at  present  occupied.  But  the 
ground  floor  drew  blank. 

Sauvage  ascended  the  staircase  and  stopped  out- 
side the  first  door  at  the  top.  It  was  the  room  in  which 
the  light  was  burning. 

The  detective  turned  the  handle  and  walked  inside. 
It  was  a  large  room  furnished  gorgeously  in  Eastern 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  231 

style.  Velvety  Persian  carpets  covered  the  floor  and 
the  walls  were  hung  with  brass  shields  and  crossed 
spears  and  scimitars.  The  room  was  in  disorder — the 
carpets  twisted  crookedly  on  the  smooth  parquet  floor- 
ing, a  table  overturned  and  a  blue  Chinese  vase  lying 
smashed  in  fragments.  But  on  a  little  inlaid  gueridon 
a  small  brass  lamp  -was  burning,  throwing  a  soft  faint 
light  that  left  most  of  the  room  in  deep  shadow. 
Sauvage  flashed  his  light  round  and  gave  a  startled 
exclamation.  Lying  face  downwards  on  a  huge  low 
divan  that  filled  one  corner  was  the  figure  of  a  man. 

The  Inspector  rushed  forward  and  turned  the  figure 
over.  He  disclosed  the  face  of  a  handsome  young  man 
of  thirty  or  a  little  more,  with  a  trim  dark  moustache. 
His  light  waistcoat  was  deeply  stained  with  blood,  and 
the  cushious  of  the  divan  were  soaked  with  it.  Lying 
on  the  divan  was  a  small  sharp  dagger,  with  a  hilt 
richly  decorated  in  Oriental  style.  This  the  detective 
picked  up. 

"Mon  Dieu — it  is  the  Comte  de  Peyrac !" 

It  was  Severin-Blanchard  who  had  spoken.  He 
stepped  forward  and  bent  over  the  body  to  examine  it. 

"He  is  dead!"  he  cried  with  emotion.  "Mon  pauvre 
jeune  ami!  Who  can  have  done  this?  Ah,  my  dear 
friend!" 

Sauvage  and  Antoine  looked  at  each  other.  Each 
read  the  same  thought  in  the  eyes  of  the  other.  And 
yet  it  seemed  incredible.  Bertoli,  of  all  people — Ber- 
toli,  the  idol  of  two  continents,  an  assassin! 

Antoine,  bewildered,  tried  to  puzzle  the  mystery  out. 
He  had  not  known  what  to  expect  in  the  quiet  villa,  but 
it  certainly  was  not  this.  What  was  it — a  story  of  love 
and  jealousy  and  hate?  And  the  beautiful  golden- 
haired  girl — what  part  had  she  played  in  the  tragedy? 

Sauvage  and  Severin-Blanchard  were  now  making  a 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

more  careful  examination  of  the  body.  The  rest  of 
the  group  were  standing  apart,  silent  and  reverential. 
Suddenly  in  the  quiet  room,  hushed  by  the  presence  of 
death,  a  telephone  bell  rang  out,  shrill  and  insistent. 
It  made  everybody  jump  with  a  disagreeable  shock. 

The  ringing  went  on,  impatient  and  alarming.  The 
noise  came  from  a  far  corner  of  the  room.  Antoine 
made  a  step  towards  a  telephone  standing  on  a  wall 
bracket  which  everybody  now  perceived  for  the  first 
time,  but  Sauvage  brushed  past  him  excitedly  and 
seized  the  receiver. 

"Allo!"  he  shouted.  "Yes.  .  .  .  Ah,  mats  .  .  ." 
He  stopped  in  the  middle  of  an  angry  exclamation  and 
looked  at  Antoine  with  an  expression  of  the  keenest 
annoyance  on  his  face. 

"Somebody  is  asking  for  you,"  he  said,  handing 
over  the  receiver  angrily. 

"For  me!"  exclaimed  Antoine  incredulously.  It  was 
the  most  bewildering  incident  of  the  night. 

He  put  the  receiver  to  his  ear  and  heard  Bourdot's 
voice  making  impatient  noises. 

"C'est  moi,  Antoine,"  he  called. 

"Ah,  at  last,"  said  Bourdot.  "Thank  goodness  I 
have  got  you.  I  took  the  chance  that  you  would  be 
inside  the  villa  and  rang  up.  Listen!  Bertoli  is  here. 
He  has  appeared  after  all  to-night — over  an  hour  late, 
but  he  is  singing  now.  There  have  been  extraordinary 
scenes!  You  cannot  imagine!  Come  up  at  once  and 
ask  for  the  private  room  of  the  Comte  de  Peyrac  at  the 
Cafe  de  la  Paix." 

"The  Comte  de  Peyrac — but  he  is  lying  dead  in  this 
room  now,"  replied  Antoine  in  a  hushed  voice. 

"Dead!  Nonsense!  I  was  with  him  a  moment  ago 
and  have  only  just  left  him  to  come  to  the  telephone." 

*'Ah  sais-tu — I  don't  know  where  I  am!     Then   if 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  233 

yours  is  the  Comte  de  Peyrac  who  is  this?"  There  was 
a  buzzing  on  the  line,  Bourdot's  voice  grew  faint  and 
died  away. 

"Ah,  was  there  ever  such  a  vile  thing  as  the  Paris 
telephone  system!"  cried  Antoine. 

"But  what  is  it,  what  is  it?"  exclaimed  Sauvage, 
anger  struggling  with  his  natural  professional  curiosity. 

"It  is  fantastic,  man  cher  Sauvage.  I  don't  know 
where  to  begin.  .  .  .  Voila,  Bertoli  has  appeared  at  the 
Opera  after  all.  He  was  over  an  hour  late,  but  he  is 
singing  at  the  present  moment.  And  this  unfortunate 
man  here  is  not  the  Comte  de  Peyrac.  Who  he  is  I 
can't  tell  you.  And  that  is  all  I  know." 

He  made  a  rush  for  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  cried  Sauvage  in  anguish. 

"Back  to  the  Opera !  I  want  to  hear  the  last  of  this 
wonderful  performance  of  Bertoli's."  But  at  the  door- 
way he  relented.  There  was  a  little  debt  he  owed 
Sauvage.  "If  you  will  leave  Pince  here  and  follow  on 
later  to  La  Lumiere  I  will  let  you  know  anything  that 
occurs.  Aliens,  Durand." 


VII 

THREE  quarters  of  an  hour  later  Antoine,  a  little  shaken 
by  the  night's  incidents,  stepped  into  an  elegant  and 
cozy  apartment  on  the  first  floor  of  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix. 
The  room  was  empty,  but  the  round  table  in  the  center 
was  richly  set  for  supper. 

Antoine,  restless  and  excited,  went  to  the  window  and 
drew  aside  the  blind.  Down  the  broad  steps  of  the 
Opera  a  crowd  was  pouring,  and  the  murmur  of  their 
voices  reached  him  where  he  stood.  There  seemed  to 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

be  a  thrill  of  excitement  in  the  air  as  the  multitude 
spread  over  the  Place  de  1'Opera  and  flowed  right  and 
left  down  the  Boulevards. 

There  was  a  noise  at  the  door  that  made  Antoine 
turn.  The  shocks  of  the  evening  were  not  yet  over. 
Antoine  quivered  at  what  he  saw.  The  young  man 
who  now  entered  was  apparently  none  other  than  the 
one  he  had  left  lying  dead  on  the  divan  out  at  Neuilly. 

Bourdot  entered  at  the  same  instant. 

"Let  me  introduce  you,"  he  said  promptly.  "The 
Comte  de  Peyrac — Monsieur  Antoine  Poiret,  Director 
of  La  Lumiere." 

"C'est  extraordinaire!"  exclaimed  Antoine,  staring, 
fascinated. 

The  newcomer  smiled. 

"I  am  really  the  Comte  de  Peyrac.  You  are  not  the 
first  who  has  been  astonished  on  that  account.  But  I 
think  that  my  troubles  in  this  matter  are  now  at  an 
end.  My  double  will  cause  me  no  further  worry." 

Antoine  sat  down  suddenly. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "but  I  have  had  a  very  trying 
evening.  But  I  should  like  to  know  all  there  is  to 
know." 

"I  am  only  just  disentangling  it  myself.  It  is  a  very 
extraordinary  story." 

"If  you  only  knew,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  how  impatient 
I  am  to  hear  it." 

"Eh  bien.  It  has  got  to  come  out,  and  you  may  as 
well  know  it  early."  The  Comte  paced  slowly  up  and 
down  the  room  as  he  talked. 

"As  you  see,  I  have,  or  had,  a  double.  The  like- 
ness, as  I  have  been  made  to  realize  more  than  once  to 
my  cost,  is  extraordinary.  This  man,  Rogier,  was  a 
footman  in  the  house  of  a  friend  of  mine.  It  is  there, 
I  suppose,  that  he  was  able  to  pick  up  the  usages  of 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY 

polite  society  which  enabled  him  successfully  on  many 
occasions  to  pose  as  myself. 

"I  will  not  bother  to  recount  to  you  the  many  annoy- 
ing and  occasionally  diverting  incidents  of  this  long 
deception.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  some  time  ago 
Paris  became  too  hot  to  hold  Rogier,  and  at  about  the 
same  time  that  I  departed  for  a  voyage  in  the  East  he 
decided  to  travel  a  little  in  America. 

"I  only  arrived  back  in  Paris  to-day  after  an  ab- 
sence of  six  months,  and  you  must  understand  that  I 
have  only  learned  all  that  follows  within  the  past  few 
hours.  In  America  it  seems  my  double,  posing  as  usual 
as  the  Comte  de  Peyrac,  made  many  conquests  in  love 
and  friendship,  and  amongst  others  'became  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  great  Bertoli.  It  is  quite  evident 
that  the  famous  tenor  took  a  great  fancy  to  the  rogue,  > 
and  I  think  there  is  no  doubt  that  on  various  pretexts 
he  was  inclined  to  advance  him  large  sums  of  money. 

"Not  long  ago  Bertoli  met  and  fell  in  love  with  a 
beautiful  American  girl.  I  understand  that  of  a  con- 
siderable number  of  affairs  of  the  heart  from  which  the 
illustrious  singer  has  suffered  in  his  time,  this  is  the 
only  really  serious  one.  She  returned  his  passion  and 
they  decided  to  marry,  but  for  various  reasons  both 
were  anxious  to  keep  the  matter  secret  for  a  time. 
They  crossed  the  Atlantic  on  the  same  liner,  a  matter 
which  caused  no  comment,  and,  arrived  in  London, 
were  married  secretly.  It  seems  that  in  London  one  can 
perform  such  little  matters  much  more  quietly  and  ex- 
peditiously  than  here. 

"Bertoli  had  taken  the  supposed  Comte  de  Peyrac 
into  his  confidence,  and  the  villain  had  readily  offered 
nis  help.  He  had  a  truly  brilliant  idea.  Bertoli  had  to 
come  on  to  Paris  to  fulfil  his  engagement.  This  im- 
postor then  suggested  that  while  in  Paris,  Bertoli  and 


236      [THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

his  bride  should  use  my  villa — my  villa  if  you  please ! — 
for  their  honeymoon.  The  rogue  knew  it  was  empty, 
and  that  there  would  be  little  difficulty  about  obtaining 
an  entrance.  A  set  of  duplicate  keys  is  nothing  to  such 
a  person.  And  thus  while  Bertoli  ostensibly  stayed  at 
the  Hotel  Majestic,  where  he  received  his  friends,  he 
journeyed  out  every  night  to  my  house  at  Neuilly.  It 
was  an  admirable  arrangement  and  worked  perfectly. 
A  very  few  people  were  in  the  secret,  and  they  kept  it 
religiously.  But  this  very  day  the  happy  couple  had 
decided  that  at  last  they  could  give  their  secret  to  the 
world  and  for  the  first  time  they  appeared  in  Paris 
together." 

"I  saw  her.  She  is  magnificent,"  said  Antoine  fer- 
vently. 

"Then  you  will  appreciate  better  what  follows.  My 
double  had,  naturally,  been  a  constant  visitor  to  Neuilly. 
He  was  the  confidant  of  the  happy  couple,  and  they 
trusted  him  implicitly.  They  had,  of  course,  no  idea 
that  they  were  in  the  hands  of  a  thorough  scoundrel. 

"Early  this  evening,  then,  Bertoli  had  occasion  to 
be  absent  from  the  villa  for  an  hour  or  more.  It  was 
the  first  time  Rogier  had  really  been  alone  with  the 
lady,  and  he  suddenly  made  the  most  violent  and  pas- 
sionate love  to  her.  Thunderstruck,  she  resisted  him, 
but  once  he  had  given  a  glimpse  of  his  true  character, 
the  lackey  threw  off  completely  the  mask  of  gentleman 
he  had  been  wearing  and  behaved  openly  like  the  base 
rascal  he  is — or  was. 

"There  was  a  violent  struggle  in  which  the  terrified 
young  lady  found  that  their  dear  friend  had  suddenly 
become  a  vicious  apache.  Luckily  she  kept  her  head, 
and  is  strong  and  athletic.  And  in  the  struggle  she 
managed  to  snatch  one  of  my  Eastern  curios  from  the 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  237 

wall  and  so  saved  herself  from  dishonor  and  rid  the 
world  of  a  villain. 

"Imagine  the  consternation  an'd  horror  of  Bertoli 
when  half  an  hour  later  he  returned  and  found  the 
room  in  disorder,  his  wife  lying  in  a  faint  and  the  sup- 
posed Comte  de  Peyrac  lying  dead!  Imagine  the 
anguish  of  these  two  suddenly  faced  with  this  appalling 
position!  Imagine  if  you  can — but  no,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible— the  consternation  of  these  two  when  suddenly  I, 
the  real  Comte  de  Peyrac,  bearing  a  remarkable  like- 
ness to  the  dead  man,  appear  on  the  scene.  I  had  only 
arrived  in  Paris  an  hour  before,  and  with  my  valet  had 
immediately  gone  to  Neuilly." 

The  Comte  paused  a  moment  in  has  pacing  of  the 
room  and  stared  before  him. 

"The  scene,  vraiment,  passes  imagination !  It  seemed 
as  though  both  Bertoli  and  his  wife  would  go  mad.  I 
too  was  in  a  state  of  extreme  emotion.  But  I  contained 
myself  and  gradually  as  the  truth  came  home  to  me, 
succeeded  somewhat  in  calming  them.  The  knowledge 
that  the  dead  man  was  not  the  Comte  de  Peyrac  but  a 
notorious  villain,  had,  for  the  moment,  a  certain  bracing 
effect.  Slowly  they  realized  in  whose  hands  they  had 
been — that  they  were,  even,  not  the  guests  of  the  dead 
man  but  of  myself. 

"They  put  themselves  into  my  hands  and  begged  me 
to  help  them.  I  said  that  if  he  could  possibly  bring 
himself  to  do  it  Bertoli  ought  to  appear  at  the  Opera 
to-night.  For  a  long  time  he  resisted  the  idea  fiercely, 
but  his  wife  joined  her  entreaties  to  mine,  and  at  last 
'he  consented.  The  three  of  us  came  back  to  Paris  and 
he  appeared  as  you  know  more  than  an  hour  late.  It 
was  announced  from  the  stage  that  he  had  been  detained 
by  a  motor  accident,  but  had  insisted  on  appearing  in 
epite  of  grave  difficulties.  And,  mon  Dieu,  the  recep- 


238       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

tion  he  got!  And  sapristl! — how  he  sang!  Never 
before  has  his  glorious  voice  throbbed  with  such  passion 
and  feeling.  The  house  was  delirious." 

The  Comte  sat  down.  Antoine  drew  a  long  breath. 
To  think  that  the  quiet  villa  at  Ncuilly  had  been  the 
scene  of  such  a  drama  during  the  past  few  hours. 

"And  Madame?"  he  asked  softly. 

"I  took  her  to  a  very  quiet  and  discreet  hotel.  She 
has  had  a  sleeping  draught  and  is  now  in  the  hands  of 
an  excellent  doctor.  As  to  the  rest  the  police  have 
been  informed.  They  and  Bertoli  may  be  here  at  any 
moment." 

"There  is  one  further  point.  Why  have  the  police 
been  watching  your  villa  so  closely  during  the  past 
three  weeks?" 

"I  heard  of  that  a  little  while  ago.  The  Opera  au- 
thorities had  become  a  little  disquieted  as  to  Bertoli's 
mysterious  movements,  and  I  imagine  that  it  was  on 
their  account  that  the  police  were  active." 

The  door  opened  and  Bertoli  himself  entered  followed 
by  a  number  of  gentlemen  in  evening  dress.  The  famous 
singer  looked  suddenly  older.  His  face  bore  lines  of 
suffering,  and  he  seemed  like  a  man  suffering  from  an 
intense  shock. 

It  was  no  scene  to  intrude  upon.  Antoine  gave  a 
sign  to  Bourdot  and  they  passed  out. 

On  the  stairs  they  met  Sauvage,  Pince  and  another 
detective  hurrying  up.  The  inspector  saluted  them 
coldly  and  passed  on  without  a  word. 

In  the  cab  Antoine  leaned  back  wearily. 

"Say  then,  mon  ami,  was  it  this  morning  or  a  hun- 
dred years  ago  that  Morissot  fought  his  duel  with 
Dupuy?" 

"It  has  been  a  wonderful  day.  And  now  for  the  task 
of  writing  about  it.  Columns  and  columns!  It  is  glo- 


THE  VILLA  AT  NEUILLY  239 

rious — but  there  is  a  lot  of  work  ahead,"  Bourdot 
sighed. 

"Durand  is  waiting  at  the  office  to  help.  We  will 
send  out  for  champagne  and  something  to  eat." 

"All  the  same  we  shan't  be  able  to  get  it  into  print 
before  five  o'clock." 

"Qu'importe!  Paris  will  read  it  to-day,  and  that 
is  all  that  matters.  And,  mon  Dieu,  what  a  story !" 


VIII 

SEVERIN-BLANCHAKD  called  at  the  office  of  La  Lu- 
miere  on  the  following  afternoon  to  give  his  warmest 
congratulations. 

"My  eyes  started  from  my  head  this  morning  when 
I  read  La  Lumiere,"  he  exclaimed.  "Dieu,  quelle  his- 
toire!  To  think  all  that  happened  in  what  we  thought 
was  an  empty  villa.  And  saves  vous — it  has  been  of 
the  greatest  help  to  me.  I  am  writing  a  new  farce 
which  is  long  overdue.  I  had  arrived  at  the  third  act 
and  I  was  stuck — del!  how  I  was  stuck!  I  was  in  a 
hole,  an  oublietto,  and  could  not  get  out.  I  had  racked 
my  brains  for  a  month  and  nothing  came  of  them.  And 
now  this  wonderful  business  has  given  me  my  idea,  the 
very  idea  I  was  looking  for  but  could  not  find.  The 
farce  is  as  good  as  finished." 

"After  tragedy — farce.  It  is  always  like  that  in 
life,"  said  Antoine.  "And  the  diamond  ring?" 

"Nom  d'un  nom — I  have  never  thought  about  it  from 
that  moment  to  this !  The  poor  Dupuy — his  fever  will 
mount  higher  and  higher.  I  must  be  off  at  once." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   GREATEST   ADVENTURE 


To  the  Frenchman  returning  from  abroad  to  the  only 
country  that  really  matters  to  him,  Marseilles,  though 
not  to  be  compared  to  the  splendid  capital,  is  an  excel- 
lent second — a  sort  of  worthy  cousin  with  a  marked 
family  resemblance  to  incomparable  Paris. 

Some  such  idea  as  this  flitted  through  the  mind  of 
Monsieur  Etienne  Robespierre,  savant  and  famous 
Egyptologist,  as  he  sat  before  a  bright  cafe  in  the 
stately  Cannebiere.  Even  the  most  loyal  of  Parisians 
will  admit  that  the  Cannebiere  is  a  fine  boulevard,  and 
M.  Robespierre  looked  with  keen  pleasure  and  interest 
on  the  prosperous  and  well-dressed  Marseillais  who 
passed  up  and  down  before  him  in  the  main  thorough- 
fare of  their  ancient  city. 

He  had  only  landed  late  the  night  before  after  a  long 
stay  in  Egpyt,  and  it  was  good  to  feel  himself  back  in 
France  again.  A  lifelong  study  of  an  ancient  civiliza- 
tion had  by  no  means  dulled  his  interest  in  the  people 
of  his  own  day.  On  the  contrary  he  thrilled  respon- 
sively  to  this  crisp  activity  of  his  own  kind  after  his 
long  poring  and  delving  amid  the  remains  of  a  bygone 
civilization.  And  that  morning  he  would  board  the 
P.  L.  M.  rapide,  and  by  midnight  find  himself  back  in 

240 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE 

his  beloved  Paris.  Then  to  his  comfortable  little  flat' 
in  the  Rue  du  Cherche  Midi,  surrounded  by  a  thousand 
objects  that  were  dear  to  him.  The  thought  was  good 
to  dwell  upon. 

In  the  very  best  of  humors  he  sipped  his  cool  and 
golden  bock.  It  was  a  hot  morning,  the  last  day  of 
July.  The  newspapers  which  he  had  been  reading  lay 
before  him  on  the  little  table.  They  contained  matters 
of  grave  import,  but  somehow  on  this  sparkling  morn- 
ing, with  all  these  unconcerned  and  happy-looking 
people  passing  up  and  down  in  the  sunshine,  M.  Robes- 
pierre could  not  take  them  seriously.  No,  no!  Such 
storms  had  blown  up  in  Europe  before.  This  one  would 
pass  away,  as  so  many  others  had  done  before  it.  War? 
Impossible!  What  did  a  happy  world  want  with  such 
a  monstrous  thing? 

But  as  he  looked  contentedly  before  him  another  ex- 
pression came  into  his  keen  and  mobile  face.  On  the 
pavement,  strolling  slowly  past  the  cafe  were  two 
young  men,  at  sight  of  whim  M.  Robespierre's  thoughts 
turned  into  quite  another  path. 

The  taller  of  the  two  was  none  other  than  Prince 
Ernst  of  Saxe-Wolmar,  half  cousin,  and  so  it  was  gen- 
erally said,  a  warm  favorite  of  that  same  potentate 
whose  demeanor  Europe  was  now  watching  with  the 
greatest  anxiety.  The  second  young  man  was  Count 
von  Gassner,  travelling  companion  of  the  Prince. 

They  had  been  together  in  Cairo,  where  there  had 
been  some  little  wonderment  as  to  why  the  Prince  should 
be  there  so  very  far  out  of  the  season.  His  stay  had 
been  made  as  pleasant  as  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances and  there  were  even  stories  that  he  had  tried  to 
make  too  much  of  the  hospitality  shown  him,  but  this, 
it  was  argued  by  some,  was  only  to  be  expected  in  the 
case  of  a  Prince  abroad,  and  a  German  one  at  that. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

M.  Robespierre  during  his  stay  in  Cairo  had  been 
fully  conversant  with  the  Prince's  visit  and  his  doings, 
and,  like  everybody  else,  understood  that  a  day  or  so 
before  his  own  departure,  the  Prince  and  his  companion 
had  left  in  their  steam  yacht  for  a  cruise  in  Greek  and 
Turkish  waters.  Then  why  this  unlooked  for  appear- 
ance in  Marseilles?  That  was  the  question,  in  view  of 
what  he  had  read  in  the  papers,  that  occurred  at  once 
to  M.  Robespierre. 

The  two  stopped  in  their  walk  and  then  sat  down  on 
the  cafe  terrace,  at  a  table  just  near  him. 

"It  is  pleasant  here,"  said  the  Prince.  "I  would 
willingly  stay  on  a  little  in  Marseilles.  .  .  .  But  this 
is  not  quite  the  time  for  it  now."  And  he  laughed. 

"What  time  do  we  get  to  Paris — midnight,  is  it  not  ?" 
said  the  other. 

The  Prince  nodded. 

"Our  stay  there,  too,  will  be  short.  But  let  us  hope 
we  shall  have  more  leisure  for  a  visit  a  little  later  on." 

The  two  exchanged  smiles.  Their  conversation  had 
been  in  German,  a  language  with  which  M.  Robespierre, 
much  against  his  natural  inclinations,  had  a  consid- 
erable acquaintance. 

There  was  something  about  what  he  had  heard  which 
struck  him  as  disagreeable,  even  sinister.  The  laugh 
of  the  Prince,  the  smile  which  the  two  men  had  ex- 
changed, seemed  to  be  charged  with  some  definite 
meaning. 

And  after  all,  sunshine  or  not,  the  newspapers  had 
never  within  his  memory,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of 
the  disasters  of  Vawnee  terrible  over  forty  years  before, 
contained  such  grave  news  as  that  which  he  had  read 
within  the  last  hour  or  so.  He  picked  one  up  and  cast 
his  eye  over  it  again.  His  glance  fell  on  a  telegram 
dated  the  night  before  from  Vienna. 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    243 

"During  the  course  of  the  evening,"  it  ran,  "the 
French,  British  and  Russian  Ambassadors  have  all 
called  on  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  had 
long  interviews  with  him.  Their  demeanor  as  they  left 
gave  little  cause  for  optimism.  It  is  reported  that 
dtiring  the  day  the  German  Ambassador  was  received 
by  the  aged  Emperor.  The  general  impression  here  is 
that  matters  have  now  gone  so  far  that  only  something 
like  a  miracle  can  avert  the  threatened  catastrophe." 

"Bon  Dieu!"  exclaimed  M.  Robespierre.  He  had 
read  that  message  before  during  the  morning,  and  had 
tried  to  dismiss  it  from  his  mind  as  the  effort  of  a 
journalist  making  the  most  of  an  exciting  situation. 
But  now,  somehow,  he  saw  it  in  quite  another  light.  Its 
gravity  could  not  be  ignored.  He  had  a  feeling  of  im- 
pending trouble,  and  the  sunlight  on  the  Boulevard 
seemed  suddenly  colder. 

There  has  been  a  hint  of  a  European  crisis  when  he 
left  Egypt,  but  it  had  developed  swiftly  during  his 
voyage,  and  that  was  perhaps  why  he  had  not  at  first 
been  sufficiently  receptive  to  what  the  newspapers  told 
him.  But  now  he  had  no  illusions  as  to  the  gravity  of 
the  moment.  The  Prince's  change  of  plans — if  it  was 
a  change — and  his  hurried  journey  northwards  were 
enough.  M.  Robespierre  felt  as  if  he  had  received  a 
cold  douche. 

After  a  little  while  the  Prince  and  his  companion  rose 
and  left.  M.  Robespierre,  with  surprising  activity 
for  one  of  his  years,  jumped  up  a  moment  later  and 
hastened  to  the  nearest  telegraph  office.  He  and  the 
Prince  were  travelling  to  Paris  on  the  same  train.  It 
had  occurred  to  him  that  it  would  be  as  well  to  send  a 
telegram  to  his  friends  on  La  Lumiere. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

II 

ANTOINE  and  Bourdot  went  to  the  Gare  de  Lyon  to 
meet  M.  Robespierre.  Paris  was  electric  with  anxiety 
and  suspense,  and  in  every  newspaper  office  people 
were  standing  about  in  groups  awaiting  the  latest 
news  and  discussing  the  situation  earnestly.  But 
M.  Robespierre  held  such  a  high  place  in  the  regard 
of  the  three  directors  of  La  Lumiere  that  they  would 
have  put  anything  aside  to  meet  him.  As  their  com- 
panion in  the  adventure  at  Monte  Carlo  which  had 
resulted  in  their  succession  to  the  control  of  the  paper, 
they  felt  they  owed  him  a  great  deal.  Only  the  great 
pressure  of  the  moment  had  prevented  Morissot  from 
coming  to  the  station  also.  .  .  .  And  besides  M.  Robes- 
pierre's telegram  had  aroused  a  certain  amount  of  curi- 
osity in  the  minds  of  Antoine  and  his  confreres. 

The  meeting  was  a  most  cordial  one.  M.  Robespierre 
hopped  out  of  the  long  train  like  a  young  man  in  his 
thirties.  They  complimented  'him  on  his  vigor  and 
youthful  appearance. 

"And  La  Lumiere,  eh?"  exclaimed  M.  Robespierre. 
"It  goes  splendidly,  does  it  not?  I  have  been  able  to 
perceive  that  even  amidst  my  mummies.  .  .  .  But  tell 
me,  things  are  grave,  are  they  not?  Is  it  really  as 
bad  as  it  seems?  Understand,  I  am  out  of  touch  a 
little." 

"We  are  hoping  the  incredible  will  not  happen,"  said 
Antoine  gravely.  "But  that  is  all." 

"Ha !  And  so  that  is  how  you  feel  in  Paris !  Your 
tone  is  enough  to  tell  me.  I  have  also  had  something 
to  think  about  on  the  journey  up  from  Marseilles.  My 
telegram  hinted  that  I  had  something  to  tell  you,  eh? 
You  see  those  two  men  who  have  just  stepped  out  of 
the  door  there?  The  first,  the  tall  fair  one,  is  Prince 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    245 

Ernst  of  Saxe-Wolmar,  first  favorite  of  the  great  War 
Lord.  The  other  does  not  matter.  But  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you  about  this  Prince.  You  will  per- 
haps appreciate  what  it  means  better  than  I."  And 
M.  Robespierre  told  them  what  he  had  overheard. 

"What  do  you  think?"  he  asked,  when  he  had  fin- 
ished. 

"At  an  ordinary  time  one  would  think  little  or 
nothing,"  said  Antoine.  "But  now — it  may  mean  any- 
thing. Non,  vraiment,  I  do  not  like  it!  A  short  stay 
in  Paris  now,  but  more  leisure  for  a  visit  later  on!  It 
seems  to  me  to  have  a  sinister  meaning." 

"So  I  thought,"  said  M.  Robespierre,  with  some  sat- 
isfaction. 

"That  well-dressed  young  man  who  has  just  gone 
up  to  greet  them  is  a  secretary  at  the  German  Embassy. 
I  know  him  well  by  sight,"  Bourdot  said. 

"We  must  keep  our  eye  on  this  Prince  Ernst."     An- 

Itoine  was  tugging  at  his  beard,  his  eye  fixed  on  the 
royal  visitor  who  was  chatting  now  with  the  secretary. 
"M.  Robespierre,  you  understand  German.  Why  not 
go  to  the  same  hotel  as  the  Prince?  Bourdot  shall 
follow  them  in  a  taxi.  You  come  on  with  me  to  the 
office  with  your  luggage,  and  when  Bourdot  has  found 
out  which  hotel  it  is,  you  go  there  and  keep  an  eye  on 
his  royal  highness.  I  will  come  with  you.  What  do 
you  say?" 

M.  Robespierre  thought  regretfully  for  a  moment 
of  his  comfortable  flat  which  he  was  so  anxious  to  see 
again,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment. 

"Bien!  You  are  right.  They  will  perhaps  be  off 
before  I  can  have  collected  my  luggage.  Let  Bourdot 
secure  a  taxi,  and  wait  for  them.  You,  mon  cher  An- 
toine, come  and  help  me  to  collect  my  luggage.  There 
is  quite  a  lot  of  it." 


246      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  they  were  able  to  leave 
the  station,  with  the  bulk  of  Robespierre's  luggage 
left  behind  in  the  cloak  room. 

At  the  offices  of  La  Lumiere  they  found  Morissot 
reading  the  proof  of  an  article  on  the  latest  phase  of 
the  international  situation.  He  broke  off  to  welcome 
M.  Robespierre  enthusiastically. 

"It  seems  a  long  time  ago  since  we  found  you,  furi- 
ous, in  the  police  station  at  Dijon,"  said  Morissot,  with 
one  of  his  rare  laughs. 

The  little  Egyptologist  laughed  heartily. 

"I  have  often  thought  of  it,  out  amidst  my  tombs. 
And  that  Commissaire,  hein?  What  a  perfect,  what  a 
beautiful  liar  he  was !  Mais  quel  aplomb!" 

They  were  deep  in  the  enjoyment  of  this  souvenir 
of  their  first  meeting  when  Bourdot  entered.  His  ap- 
pearance brought  them  back  to  realities. 

"What  hotel?"  asked  Antoine. 

"The  Grand  Imperial." 

"Isn't  that  the  hotel  where  the  famous  Kastner  is 
manager  ?" 

"The  same.  And  the  good  Kastner  bowed  his  fore- 
head to  the  ground  when  the  Prince  entered." 

"A  perfect  aest  of  them,"  said  M.  Robespierre 
acidly.  "It  goes  against  my  inclinations  to  be  near 
them.  But  I  have  done  it  before  in  the  cause  of  science, 
and  I  can  do  it  again  in  the  cause  of  France.  Come, 
we  will  be  off  immediately.  It  is  late." 

They  drove  off  at  once.  In  spite  of  the  late  hour 
there  were  many  people  still  about  the  streets,  and  on 
the  terraces  of  the  cafes  others  were  sitting.  Paris 
"was  too  excited,  too  intensely  interested  to  think  of 
going  to  bed. 

Their  taxi  hummed  swiftly  up  the  broad  Champs 
Elysees.  It  was  after  one  o'clock  when  they  arrived 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    247 

in  the  sumptuous  entrance  hall  of  the  Grand  Imperial. 
A  massive  hotel  porter  whose  countenance,  in  their 
present  mood,  seemed  to  shout  Teutonism  to  the  vis- 
itors, received  them  deferentially.  The  visitors'  book 
was  handed  to  them,  and  the  two  scanned  it  with  the 
keenest  interest.  Von  Gassner's  name  was  there,  but 
the  Prince's  identity  was  concealed  under  a  title  which, 
scrawled  hurriedly,  it  was  difficult  to  make  out. 

"We  may  be  here  only  a  few  days,"  said  Antoine, 
"'but  we  should  like  if  possible  a  large  salon  with  two 
bedrooms  opening  off  it." 

The  functionary  consulted  a  list. 

"Bien,  Messieurs.  We  have  such  a  suite  on  the  first 
floor.  Your  luggage  shall  be  sent  up  immediately.  I 
will  take  you  up." 

They  entered  a  lift,  and  a  few  moments  later  were 
shown  into  a  large  room  furnished  in  the  quiet  but 
sumptuous  style  of  a  first-class  modern  hotel-de-luxe. 

"I  know  it  is  very  late,"  said  Antoine.  "But  would 
it  be  possible  to  have  something  to  eat?  Anything — 
cold  chicken,  a  bottle  of  white  wine — ;any thing  you  can 
find." 

The  Teutonic  hall  porter  promised  that  he  would  do 
what  was  possible,  and  withdrew. 

"Judging  by  the  numbers,"  said  Antoine,  "we  must 
be  somewhere  near  our  friends.  I  took  that  chance  in 
asking  for  a  large  salon  .  .  .  And  it  will  do  no  harm 
to  eat  something.  At  any  rate  it  gives  us  the  chance 
to  be  up  and  active." 

"Excellent !  And  I  am  hungry.  One  always  is  after 
leaving  a  train.  And  there  is  much  that  we  can  talk 
about." 

Their  conversation  fell  on  tihe  one  possible  topic,  and 
Antoine  acquainted  his  friend  in  full  with  the  latest 
developments  of  the  situation  which  a  few  days  before 


248      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

had  seemed  but  one  of  Europe's  periodical  crises,  to 
be  passed  after  the  usual  negotiations  of  the  diplo- 
matists, but  now  filled  every  heart  with  foreboding. 
They  were  in  the  middle  of  their  conversation  when  a 
waiter  entered  with  a  tray  and  busied  himself  with 
laying  the  table.  Antoine  looked  at  the  man  as  he 
worked  silently  and  rapidly. 

"Good  evening,  Labiche,"  said  Antoine  quietly. 

The  waiter  jumped  as  if  struck  and  looked  at  An- 
toine with  an  expression  of  amazement  in  his  eyes. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  table  again  with  an  affectation 
of  carelessness. 

"Pardon,  Monsieur,  but  my  name  is  Prunier,"  he 
said  and  went  on  with  his  work. 

"An  excellent  French  name,  and  surprising  enough 
to  find  in  a  German  hotel,"  said  Antoine.  "But  I  have 
a  good  memory  for  names  and  faces  .  .  .  It  is  perhaps 
three  or  four  years  ago:  I  happened  to  be  present 
at  the  Seine  Assize  Court,  interested  as  a  spectator  in  a 
certain  case.  There  was  an  agent  des  mceurs  who  gave 
evidence  concerning  a  certain  person  who  not  long  be- 
fore, I  had  every  reason  to  believe,  had  skilfully 
relieved  me  of  my  pocketbook  in  a  Montmartre  night 
"cafe.  .  It  was  entirely  owing  to  your  evidence  I  re- 
member, that  the  lady  received  six  months'  imprison- 
ment on  another  charge  .  >  •-..  You  have  traveled  far 
since  then  no  doubt." 

"Who  are  you?"  said  the  waiter  bluntly  looking  An- 
toine straight  in  the  eyes. 

"My  name  is  Poiret.    I  am  Director  of  La  Lumiere." 

"Ah!     I  have  heard  of  you." 

"From  our  mutual  friend,  Inspector  Sauvage?"  in- 
quired Antoine. 

The  waiter  ignored  the  question. 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    249 

"I  am  no  longer  a  police  agent,"  he  said.  "I  have 
been  here  over  a  year.  I  am  now  a  waiter." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Antoine,  pleasantly  but  with 
decision. 

The  two  men  stared  hard  at  each  other.  Labiche 
appeared  to  be  thinking  hard.  Then  he  became  the 
waiter  again. 

"If  Monsieur  will  excuse  me  I  will  now  fetch  your 
supper,"  he  said,  and  left  the  room. 

The  old  savant  gripped  Antoine  by  the  arm. 

"When  one  is  with  you  extraordinary  things  happen 
apparently,"  he  said.  "What  do  you  make  of  it.  You 
order  supper.  A  waiter  appears.  And  he  proves  to 
be  a  detective.  Hein?" 

"At  any  rate  he  is  a  French  detective,"  said  Antoine. 
"It  seems  to  me  that  quite  possibly  our  friends  the 
police  are  more  interested  in  Herr  Kastner's  existence 
than  he  is  probably  aware  of.  Perhaps  it  was  unwise 
•of  me  to  speak  to  Labiche  like  that  but  I  did  it  impul- 
'sively.  And  one  never  knows.  It  may  be  for  the  best." 

"And  you  think  this  man  Labiche  is  specially  inter- 
ested in  the  Prince?" 

"I  should  think  it  unlikely.  He  says  he  has  been 
ihere  a  year.  He  therefore  lives  here  on  general  prin- 
ciples and  quite  possibly  has  no  knowledge  of  the 
sudden  arrival  of  the  royal  visitor." 

The  waiter  appeared  again  with  another  tray.  He 
set  the  supper  and  announced  that  all  was  ready.  The 
two  friends  sat  down. 

They  ate  with  Labiche  in  attendance  on  them.  He 
was  an  excellent  waiter.  M.  Robespierre  talked  freely 
of  his  latest  work  in  Egypt,  and  for  the  time  being, 
affairs  of  greater  moment  were  left  on  one  side.  Sup- 
per over,  Labiche  made  several  journeys  from  the  room, 
and  finally  stood  at  the  door. 


250      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Bonsoir,  messieurs.*' 

"Bonsoir,  et  merci." 

Labiche  stood  a  moment  irresolute. 

"You  will  readily  understand,"  he  said,  addressing 
Antoine,  "bhat  it  would  not  be  good  for  my  work  as  a 
•waiter  here  if  it  were  known  that  I  had  been  in  certain 
other  employment.  There  are  very  few  Frenchmen 
employed  in  this  hotel.  I  obtained  my  own  situation 
with  considerable  difficulty.  Monsieur  will  under- 
stand that  discretion  .  .  ." 

"These  are  grave  times,  Labiche,"  said  Antoine  look- 
ing hard  at  the  other.  "They  are  times  when  every 
Frenchman  must  be  loyal  to  every  other." 

"Parfaitement."  The  waiter  bowed  and  closed  the 
door  behind  him. 

M.  Robespierre  looked  at  his  watch. 

"My  friend,  I  am  extremely  tired,"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
think  we  had  better  go  to  bed.  There  is  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  stopping  up." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Antoine.  "At  any  rate  I 
think  we  shall  sleep  nearer  to  the  heart  of  things  to- 
night than  most  people  in  Paris." 


Ill 


WITH  one  possible  exception  the  Grand  Imperial  was 
the  most  expensive  hotel  in  Paris.  But  in  return  for 
its  charges  it  tried  to  give  its  guests  the  benefit  of 
every  modern  convenience,  and  when  Antoine  awoke 
somewhere  about  eight  o'clock  the  first  thing  he  no- 
.  ticed  was  a  telephone  within  easy  reach  of  his  hand. 

He  unhooked  the  receiver  and  rang  up  the  office, 
giving  a  message  that  when  Bourdot  and  Durand  came 
in  they  should  be  requested  to  call  on  him  at  the  hotel. 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    251 

And  just  after  Antoine  and  M.  Robespierre  had  finished 
a  light  breakfast  the  man  of  fashion  and  the  office  in- 
vestigator both  appeared. 

"Nothing  has  happened,"  said  Antoine.  "We  are 
staying  on  the  same  floor  as  his  Royal  Highness,  that 
is  all.  He  is  along  the  corridor  there,  in  the  next  suite. 
There  is  just  one  point."  And  he  mentioned  his  dis- 
covery of  Labiche. 

"I  remember  him  well,"  broke  in  Durand.  "It  is  true 
...  I  have  not  seen  him  about  for  a  long  time  .  .  .1 
After  all,  a  Paris  hotel  is  the  last  place  one  Parisian 
would  meet  another." 

"Labiche  is  not  really  in  Paris  at  all,"  said  Antoine. 
The  others  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "He  is  in  Ger- 
many. So  are  we  all  in  this  room.  Half  an  hour  ago 
I  walked  along  the  corridor.  I  saw  a  bullet-headed 
waiter  coming  out  of  the  rooms  of  our  Prince.  I  walked 
down  to  the  entrance  hall  to  buy  the  morning  papers. 
The  great  Kastner  himself  was  just  crossing  it,  and 
he  stopped  to  speak  to  an  under-manager  who  has  cer- 
tainly modeled  his  moustache  on  the  Kaiser's.  And  the 
porter  who  sent  a  page  boy  for  me  to  the  newspaper 
kiosk  might  have  been  a  Prussian  guardsman.  One 
does  not  notice  these  things  so  closely  at  ordinary  times, 
but  during  my  little  promenade  I  felt  that  I  had 
crossed  the  Rhine  .  .  .  And  now,  mes  amis,  I  suggest 
that  as  unobtrusively  as  possible  you  two  make  this 
place  a  sort  of  headquarters  for  the  time  being.  Be- 
tween you  there  are  few  notable  people  in  Paris  you 
do  not  know  something  about.  We  may  be  sure  this 
Prince  is  not  here  as  a  mere  Teuton  tourist.  He  is 
travelling  incognito  and  witih  the  situation  as  it  is  he 
would  be  hurrying  on  to  Germ-any  if  he  had  not  some 
good  reason  for  staying.  We  must  try  and  manage 
that  as  little  as  possible  happens  in  this  hotel  that  we 


252      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

do  not  know  about.  We  have  had  many  interesting 
experiences  together  on  La  Lumiere  but  this  should 
easily  exceed  them  all." 

"Good,"  said  Durand.  "I  will  begin  with  the  Ameri- 
can Bar  and  make  myself  at  home  fchere."  And  he 
went  out. 

M.  Robespierre  had  sat  very  quiet  during  all  this. 
There  was  a  hint  of  amusement  in  his  keen  eyes  as  he 
spoke  following  Durand's  departure. 

"All  this  is  very  exciting,  mon  cher  Antoine.  But 
I  confess  I  do  not  see  where  you  are  to  begin.  And 
back  in  Paris  on  this  bright  July  morning,  with  the 
pleasant  hum  of  the  Champs  Elysees  below  .  .  .  some- 
how I  cannot  feel  that  the  world  is  thinking  of  plung- 
ing into  war.  Nor  can  I  quite  feel  that  this  luxurious 
but  otherwise  quite  ordinary  hotel  is  the  home  of  inter- 
national plots.  Perhaps  it  is  that  I  am  so  much  out  of 
touch,  or  that  I  am  itching  to  see  my  old  flat  in  the 
Rue  du  Cherche  Midi.  I  think  I  will  go  there." 

Antoine  smiled. 

"You  said  yourself  last  night  that  extraordinary 
things  seem  to  happen  when  I  am  about.  It  has  been 
noticed  before.  But  when  you  go  out  you  will  feel  that 
something  extraordinary  is  happening  everywhere,  to 
everybody  all  around  you.  For  a  week  past  this  ten- 
sion has  been  growing.  We  have  had  crises  before, 
but  never  one  that  felt  like  this.  There  is  not  one  rea- 
sonable being  in  Paris  at  this  moment  who  is  not  talking 
about  one  thing — does  it  mean  war?  And  most  of  us 
are  convinced  against  all  our  hopes  and  wishes  that  it 
does.  A  week  ago  nobody  would  have  dreamed  that  a 
wrangle  in  the  Balkans  would  mean  war  for  Europe. 
But  the  crisis  instead  of  diminishing  has  intensified 
with  every  hour.  To-day  there  is  hardly  a  single  indi- 
vidual in  touch  with  affairs  who  thinks  that  we  have 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    253 

the  slightest  chance  of  escaping  war — the  war  of  mil- 
lions that  has  been  talked  about  for  years  past,  but 
which  nobody  has  ever  really  visualized.  Now  we  know 
we  are  on  the  very  edge  of  it.  To-morrow  we  may  be 
in  it  .  .  .  And  I  feel  that  the  last  push  may  just  as 
likely  come  from  within  this  hotel  as  from  anywhere 
else." 

Antoine  had  spoken  very  quietly  but  the  old  gentle- 
man looked  very  thoughtful. 

"You  impress  me,  in  spite  of  myself,"  he  said.  "I 
don't  want  to  believe  you  .  .  .  but  you  almost  make 
me.  I  will  go  out  all  the  same,  and  I  shall  return  here 
some  time  during  the  day." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do,"  asked  Bourdot  after 
the  Egyptologist  had  left  them.  "The  situation  does 
not  seem  very  clear  to  me." 

"As  you  say  it  is  a  little  vague,"  said  Antoine. 
"There  is  nothing  to  tell  us  where  to  begin,  or  on  what. 
But  it  occurs  to  me  .  .  .  the  Prince  has  telephones 
in  has  rooms,  as  we  have  here.  He  is  staying  incognito. 
It  is  more  than  likely  that  he  will  send  or  receive 
messages  by  that  means  .  .  .If  only  we  could  tap 
his  wires." 

"Yes,  but  how?" 

"Yes,  how?  Listen,  Bourdot.  There  is  that  excel- 
lent man  Georges  who  does  all  the  electrical  work  in  our 
offices.  He  is  of  good  presence.  You  must  go  and 
find  him  and  bring  him  here.  Tell  him  only  just  as 
much  as  is  necessary  and  be  back  with  him  as  early  as 
possible  this  afternoon.  I  suggest  that  you  put  him 
in  one  of  your  suits  and  attend  to  his  toilet  as  far  as  is 
necessary.  He  must  not,  of  course,  suggest  the  work- 
man when  he  comes  here.  Let  him  bring  whatever  may 
be  required — wire,  a  portable  telephone — anything. 
Buy  him  a  neat  little  leather  case  for  those  and  his 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

tools.  The  idea  is  that  he  will  have  to  try  and  guess 
from  inside  these  rooms  where  the  wire  runs  to  the 
Prince's  apartment,  and  tap  it.  Explain  that  as  wel) 
as  you  can  to  him — you  have  a  general  idea  as  to  how 
the  rooms  run.  Offer  him  a  thousand  francs  if  neces- 
sary. And  if  he  can't  do  it  in  his  disguise  as  a  gentle- 
man we  shall  have  to  see  what  can  be  done  by  means  of 
his  boldly  invading  the  royal  presence  as  a  simple  tele- 
phone employee,  who  is  examining  the  instrument. 
There  is  no  risk.  Only  a  little  bluff  is  needed.  .  .  . 
I  think  that  is  all  for  the  moment.  You  can  do  this, 
mon  vieux  Bourdot?" 

"I  have  done  many  curious  things  for  you,"  said 
Bourdot.  "No  doubt  I  shall  be  able  to  manage  this 
also.  ...  I  should  not  have  the  slightest  belief  in 
your  scheme — except  that  I  have  known  others  just  as 
extraordinary  to  succeed." 

"Mon  cher  ami,  the  great  Danton  was  wonderfully 
right.  Audacity  always  succeeds.  So  many  people 
live  by  convention  that  they  are  always  out-manoeuvred 
by  the  few  who  depart  from  the  rules.  And  now  that 
this  point  is  settled  I  know  what  my  next  move  is." 

"And  what  may  it  be?"  asked  Bourdot. 

"Lunch,"  said  Antoine. 


rv 


MONSIEUR  ROBESPIERRE  heaved  a  little  sigh  of  relief 
and  content  as  he  stepped  out  of  the  hotel  into  the  open 
air  and  sunshine.  His  homecoming  had  been  shorn  of 
its  expected  joy  and  welcome.  When  working  in  the 
fierce  light  and  heat  of  Egypt  his  thoughts  constantly 
dwelt  on  his  cool  and  comfortable  flat,  with  its  in- 
numerable souvenirs,  precious  or  sentimental,  of  his  long 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    255 

and  busy  life.  He  had  lived  there  over  thirty  years 
and  had  no  desire  to  live  anywhere  else.  His  short  stay 
in  the  big  hotel  had  bored  him,  as  being  a  sheer  waste  of 
valuable  time.  The  atmosphere  of  plot  and  suspicion 
had  not  impressed  so  much  as  irritated  him.  He  was 
nostalgic  for  his  own  mellow  haunts,  and  the  night  in 
the  severely  modern  hotel  with  his  own  home  so  near  had 
been  a  burden  on  his  mind  and  heart. 

His  spirits  revived  wonderfully  as  he  walked  briskly 
down  the  slope  of  the  Champs  Elysees.  Paris  smiled 
her  old  welcome  to  him,  as  she  had  done  so  many  times 
before  after  his  periodical  absences.  There  was  so  far 
nothing  to  show  that  she  had  a  care  on  her  mind.  Her 
mood  was  apparently  his  own — one  of  lightness  and 
content.  The  swift  motor  traffic  whirled  joyously  up 
and  down  the  broad  avenue  whose  polished  surface,  bur- 
nished by  innumerable  wheels,  threw  back  the  morning 
sun  as  from  a  mirror. 

Swinking  his  cane  he  arrived,  without  slackening  his 
pace,  at  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  dodged  with  extraor- 
dinary agility  the  bewildering  traffic  that  shot  across  it 
from  all  directions,  crossed  the  river,  his  eye  lighting  up 
at  the  splendid  prospect  of  the  quais  that  opened  before 
him,  and  continued  on  his  way  through  the  quarter  of 
Paris  he  loved  best. 

A  little  later  he  turned  into  the  dark  entrance  to  the 
old-fashioned  but  comfortable  apartment  which  for  so 
long  had  been  his  home.  He  saw  his  old  concierge  sit- 
ting in  her  lodge,  and  thought  with  some  pleasure  of 
the  surprise  his  sudden  appearance  in  the  doorway 
would  give.  To  his  amazement  old  Mme.  Villon  merely 
looked  up  and  holding  out  an  envelope  which  she  had 
just  picked  up  from  the  table  said: 

"Here  is  a  letter  for  you,  Monsieur.  It  was  left  here 
an  hour  ago  with  the  strictest  injunctions  that  I  must 


256      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

let  you  have  it  the  moment  you  came  in.  It  is  very 
important." 

The  returned  exile  was  very  much  taken  aback. 

"Sapristi!  Is  that  how  you  greet  your  old  locataire 
after  such  a  long  absence?"  he  exclaimed. 

Mme.  Villon  gave  a  little  cry. 

"But  if  it  is  not  Monsieur  Robespierre!  Welcome! 
A  thousand  welcomes !  For  the  moment,  as  you  stood 
there  with  your  back  to  the  light,  I  thought  it  was 
Monsieur  Haase  .  .  ." 

"A  German !  It  is  nothing  but  Germans !"  exclaimed 
the  old  gentleman,  considerably  nettled.  "My  key, 
quick!  I  am  impatient  to  see  my  appartement." 

He  seized  the  key  himself  from  the  nail  where  he  knew 
it  hung,  and  ran  lightly  upstairs,  paying  no  heed  to 
something  Mme.  Villon  called  after  him. 

He  heaved  a  sigh  of  content  as  he  stepped  again  into 
his  own  abode.  It  was  an  unsuspected  treasure-house 
in  the  midst  of  Paris.  He  sat  down  in  a  favorite  arm- 
chair and  slowly  surveyed  his  precious  belongings. 
Everything  was  as  he  had  left  it  on  his  last  departure 
for  Egypt — to  be  arrested  a  few  hours  afterwards  by 
that  mutton-headed  Police  Commissary  at  Dijon. 

As  he  sat  there  he  became  aware  of  the  letter  in  his 
hand  which  in  the  excitement  of  his  homecoming  he  had 
for  the  moment  forgotten.  Much  to  his  surprise  he 
saw  that  the  envelope  bore  the  name  of  the  hotel  he  had 
just  left. 

"Extraordinary,"  he  murmured.  "One  cannot  escape 
these  Germans.  They  seem  to  follow  me  about." 

He  had  a  sudden  desire  to  know  what  was  in  the  let- 
ter, and  acting  on  the  impulse  opened  it.  The  name 
Haase  on  the  envelope  justified  anything,  and  in  any 
case  this  was  hardly  the  time  to  bother  too  much  about 
the  niceties  of  conduct. 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    257 

What  he  saw  inside,  written  in  German,  surprised 
him  still  more.  The  letter  was  signed  by  von  Gassner. 
It  ran: 

"Events  are  impending  which  make  it  absolutely 
necessary  for  you  to  get  into  immediate  touch  with  your 
former  friends.  These  instructions  have  been  received 
from  the  highest  quarters.  His  Royal  Highness,  Prince 
Ernst  of  Saxe-Wolmar,  wishes  you  to  be  here  at  ten 
o'clock  to-night.  If  you  give  your  name  at  the  bureau 
you  will  be  conducted  to  him  immediately.  The  affair 
is  important  and  urgent." 

M.  Robespierre  whistled  softly  to  himself.  He  be- 
came aware  that  Mme.  Villon  was  standing  behind  his 
chair,  talking  rapidly.  She  had  apparently  been  talk- 
ing to  him  for  some  little  time. 

"At  first  sight  you  are  really  quite  alike,  and  when 
you  stood  there  in  the  doorway  I  thought  for  the  mo- 
ment that  you  were  M.  Haase  ..." 

"Who  is  this  individual  you  are  talking  about?" 
demanded  the  old  gentleman  raspingly. 

"The  new  tenant.      He  has  been  here  six  months." 

"What  is  he  like?" 

"He  is  a  very  pleasant  gentleman." 

"Does  he  receive  many  letters  ?" 

"Very  few  indeed." 

"Listen,  Mme.  Villon.  You  have  known  me  a  long 
time.  I  have  known  you  &  long  time.  There  can  be 
perfect  confidence  between  us.  And  I  have  arrived  here 
just  in  time  to  discover  that  something  dangerous — 
something  peculiar — is  happening.  The  whole  point  is 
to  keep  the  police  away  from  this  place." 

Mme.  Villon's  eyes  widened.  M.  Robespierre's  man- 
ner was  very  impressive,  even  a  little  alarming. 

"What  is  it?"  she  quavered. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  at  the  moment.      But  the  point  is 


258       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

that  for  the  time  being  at  any  rate  you  must  not  men- 
tion this  letter  to  Herr  Haase.  He  is  a  German.  Do 
not  forget  that.  You  must  preserve  absolute  silence 
on  the  matter.  Do  you  understand  me?" 

"Perfectly,  M.  Robespierre." 

"That  is  well,  then.  Understand,  the  greatest  dis- 
cretion. There  are  the  gravest  reasons  for  it.  I  will 
tell  you  more  later.  For  the  moment  you  must  leave 
me  to  think  the  matter  out." 

M.  Robespierre's  face  relaxed  into  a  smile  as  the  old 
dame  went  out.  But  he  was  immediately  grave  again. 
There  was  something  urgent  and  serious  afoot  here. 
He  remembered  Antoine's  calm  but  telling  exposition  of 
the  situation  that  morning.  Truly  he  felt  crisis  in  the 
air  now.  Here  was  something  to  tell  Antoine.  He 
must  get  back  to  the  hotel  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Some  time  later  in  the  afternoon  Antoine  sat  in  his 
bedroom  at  the  hotel  with  a  telephone  receiver  to  his 
ear.  Behind  him  stood  an  individual  of  rather  am- 
biguous presence.  He  was  attired  in  frock  coat,  striped 
trousers,  patent  boots  and  spats,  but  there  was  some- 
thing about  him  which  did  not  quite  accord  with  his 
imposing  exterior. 

"It  should  be  all  right,"  he  was  saying,  a  little 
anxiously.  "I  feel  sure  I  have  tapped  the  right  wire." 

Antoine  made  a  motion  with  his  hand.  Then  he  laid 
the  receiver  down  and  turned  to  the  electrician. 

"You  have,"  he  said.  "Somebody  has  just  tele- 
phoned down  to  the  entrance  hall  to  ask  for  the  evening 
papers  to  be  sent  up.  I  heard  every  word  quite  clearly." 

"Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  'be  done,  Monsieur 
Antoine?" 

"No,  many  thanks.  I  think  that  is  all,  Georges.  It 
is  excellently  done.  If  there  is  any  need  to  call  on  you 
again  I  shall  know  where  to  find  you." 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    259 

And  the  electrician,  putting  on  a  glossy  tall  hat  and 
picking  up  a  small  leather  case,  departed. 

"That  is  good  so  far  as  it  goes,"  murmured  Antoine 
to  himself  as  he  regarded  the  illicit  telephone.  "The 
point  is,  how  far  will  it  go.  .  .  .1  too,  by  the  way, 
will  ask  for  the  evening  papers." 

When  they  came  up  he  saw  that  all  were  concentrat- 
ing on  the  desperate  efforts  being  made  by  England 
to  call  an  eleventh  hour  conference  of  the  Powers  with 
the  hope  of  avoiding  the  catastrophe  of  war.  There 
was  little  hope  expressed  that  such  a  conference  would 
be  convened,  or  that  it  would  do  any  good  if  it  were. 

He  was  disturbed  by  the  ring  of  a  telephone  bell. 
He  ran  to  the  bedroom,  but  discovered  that  it  was  his 
own  instrument  that  was  ringing  and  not  the  one  con- 
nected with  the  Prince's  suite. 

"Is  that  you,  Antoine?"  said  a  voice.  "This  is 
Robespierre.  I  want  you  to  take  a  taxi  and  come  £o 
my  rooms  as  soon  as  possible." 

"But,  mon  ami,  I  don't  wish  to  leave  here." 

"It  is  imperative.  I  have  something  most  important 
to  tell  you,  but  it  cannot  be  done  on  the  telephone.  Can- 
not you  arrange  with  Bourdot?  You  can  be  back  in 
half  an  hour.  I  should  have  communicated  with  you 
before,  but  I  have  been  deep  in  my  papers.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  telephone.  I  am  in  a  chemist's  shop. 
It  is  imperative  that  you  should  come." 

"If  it  is  so  important,  then.  I  will  see  Bourdot  and 
start  at  once." 

In  the  hall  Antoine  Discovered  the  man  of  fashion 
reading  a  paper  and  keeping  an  eye  open  on  all  that 
was  going  on  round  him. 

"Sit  on  guard  over  the  telephone,"  said  Antoine,  after 
explaining  why  he  had  to  go  out.  "If  there  is  any  call 


260      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

on  the  Prince's  line  the  instrument  will  ring.      I  shall 
be  back  immediately." 

Antoine  discovered  M.  Robespierre  sitting  at  a  desk 
deep  in  his  papers.  He  exclaimed  at  the  many  beauti- 
ful things  he  saw  around  him. 

"It  is  a  corner  of  ancient  Egypt,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  and  some  day  I  will  explain  everything  to  you. 
But  for  the  moment  listen  to  what  I  have  to  tell  you." 
And  he  recounted  the  incident  of  the  letter  intended  for 
his  double. 

"But  this  is  amazing,"  cried  Antoine.  "We  are  cer- 
tainly on  the  track  of  something  important.  And  who 
is  this  Herr  Haase?" 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  idea.  I  only  know  from 
what  my  concierge  has  told  me,  that  he  has  not  been  in 
Germany  for  a  long  time.  It  is  just  possible  that  the 
Prince  does  not  know  him  by  sight." 

•"And  Herr  Haase  is  commanded  to  meet  the  Prince 
at  ten  to-night.  And  he  has  not  received  the  summons, 
but  you  have." 

Antoine  spoke  slowly,  as  if  underlining  his  words. 
The  two  men  looked  steadily  at  each  other  for  a 
moment. 

"It  had  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  take  his  place," 
said  M.  Robespierre  calmly. 

"That  is  splendid  of  you,"  cried  Antoine.  "I  knew 
you  would  say  so." 

"There  is  just  this  one  point.  I  may  already  have 
been  noticed  in  the  hotel." 

"I  thought  of  that  at  once.  But  after  all,  only  the 
night  porter  saw  you  enter.  To-day  you  descended  the 
stairs  once  to  go  out — it  is  very  likely  that  in  the  bustle 
of  the  place  nobody  noticed  you.  And  again,  it  is  not 
certain  that  the  people  at  the  hotel  know  Herr  Haase." 

"My  thoughts  had  run  on  exactly  the  same  lines. 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    261 

But  I  would  give  much  to  know  who  Herr  Haase  is." 
"I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  help  you  there.  Imme- 
diately on  returning  I  will  send  Durand  to  the  Pre- 
fecture— to  the  Prefect  of  Police  himself — to  find  out 
all  that  can  be  found  about  him.  They  are  sure  to 
have  some  sort  of  dossier  on  him.  I  think  the  Prefect 
will  help,  if  circumstances  allow  him.  We  have  been 
very  friendly  since  a  certain  little  affair  in  which  we 
met  some  time  ago." 

"That  is  good.  But  how  shall  I  learn  what  you  have 
found  out?" 

"You  will  come  to  the  hotel  in  a  taxicab.  Stop  it  a 
few  yards  before  you  reach  the  hotel  and  remain  inside. 
One  of  us  will  come  to  you  and  tell  you  anything  we 
know.  At  a  quarter  to  ten,  say." 

"Bien.      That  is  all  for  the  moment,  then.      I  have 

much  more  to  occupy  me.      And  wish  me  luck  when  I 

beard  Messieurs  les  Allemands  in  their  den  to-night." 

"We  shall  be  near  you,"  said  Antoine.      They  shook 

hands  and  he  descended  to  his  waiting  taxi. 

He  found  Bourdot  in  a  state  of  open  excitement  when 
he  re-entered  his  rooms  at  the  hotel. 

"There  is  news,"  announced  the  man  of  fashion,  with 
importance.  "Your  great  telephone  idea  has  already 
justified  itself.  There  was  a  ring.  I  listened.  Some- 
body from  the  Prince's  suite  was  speaking  to  somebody 
else.  Who  else  I  could  not  say.  But  the  voice  of  this 
other  person  seemed  familiar  to  me.  And  suddenly  I 
recognized  it — a  peculiar  voice,  unmistakable.  Guess 
who  it  was." 

"But  who  ?     Quick !     How  could  I  tell  you  ?" 
"It  was  the  voice  of  Schultze,  first  secretary  at  the 
German  Embassy.     I  have  talked  with  him  many  a  time. 
Say,  then,  is  it  not  extraordinary  how  my  experience  of 
fashionable  Paris    ..." 


262      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"But,  voyons,  Bourdot!  I  will  talk  to  you  about 
your  duchesses  another  time.  What  is  the  news?" 

"But  consider.  If  I  had  not  recognized  that 
voice  .  .  . " 

"True!  True!  You  are  right.  It  is  extraordi- 
nary. And  the  news?"  Antoine  was  dancing  with 
excitement. 

"Well,  as  far  as  I  could  make  out  from  the  conversa- 
tion there  is  to  be  an  important  reunion  here  at  the  hotel 
to-night.  And  apparently  somebody  very  important  is 
to  be  here — I  think  there  is  no  doubt  it  is  the  German 
Ambassador.  Is  that  interesting,  hein?" 

"I  should  say  it  is.  It  may  mean  anything.  You 
will  agree  when  I  tell  you  what  I  have  just  heard." 
And  he  told  him  of  M.  Robespierre  and  his  double. 

"The  storm  is  blowing  up,  mon  cher  Bourdot.  And 
we  are  on  the  spot.  The  telephone  was  a  great  idea, 
rfi!  And  now  I  want  you  to  find  Durand  down  below. 
I  must  send  him  to  the  Prefecture.  I  will  write  a  note 
while  you  are  finding  him.  Observe  once  more  how  use- 
ful was  that  little  affair  of  the  studio  in  the  Rue 
Tartarin.  The  Prefect  has  been  our  friend  ever  since. 
He  loved  that  little  joke." 

Antoine  scribbled  a  hasty  note  to  the  Prefect,  ex- 
plaining that  for  urgent  private  and  patriotic  reasons 
he  wished  to  know  anything  there  was  to  know  concern- 
ing Herr  Haase,  an  elderly  German  gentleman  who 
lived. in  the  Rue  de  Cherche  Midi.  He  was  sealing  up 
the  letter  when  Durand  came  in.  Antoine  explained  the 
matter  in  a  few  words,  and  Durand  departed. 

Bourdot  returned  to  his  post  of  observation  down 
below.  Antoine  sat  with  an  ear  turned  towards  the 
telephone,  but  nothing  happened.  As  some  relief  from 
inaction  he  rang  up  Morissot  at  the  office  and  asked  if 
there  was  any  later  news  on  the  situation. 


263 

"No  change,"  he  reported,  "or  if  there  is,  it  is  a 
shade  more  pessimistic.  It  will  be  war — one  can  see 
no  way  out  of  it.  There  is  one  thing  to  be  said — for 
the  first  time  in  my  experience  the  Government  is  more 
or  less  behaving  as  a  government  should." 

"That  is  something  to  be  thankful  for,"  said  Antoine 
with  a  chuckle. 

"Mind  you,  I  am  not  saying  they  have  really  done 
anything  yet,"  put  in  Morissot  hastily.  "But  one  really 
has  some  hopes  that  they  will." 

"I  am  relieved  to  find  that  you  are  not  too  enthusi- 
astic," laughed  Antoine.  "I  should  not  like  to  see  too 
violent  a  change  in  you." 

The  chat  with  Morissot  put  him  in  a  good  humor. 
Shortly  afterwards  Durand  came  in  on  his  return  from 
the  Prefecture. 

"The  Prefect  was  all  that  could  be  wished,"  he  said. 
"He  knew  all  about  Herr  Haase  without  having  to  con- 
sult any  documents.  His  real  name  is  Baron  von 
Kuhling." 

"The  name  seems  familiar." 

"Yes.  You  will  remember  that  some  twelve  years 
ago  there  was  a  very  nasty  court  scandal  in  Berlin. 
It  is  supposed  that  to  save  others  more  exalted  Kuhling 
was  made  a  sort  of  scapegoat.  He  belongs  to  one  of 
Bavaria's  oldest  families,  but  he  was  banished — kicked 
out  of  Germany.  He  has  lived  chiefly  in  France  ever 
since,  mostly  on  the  Riviera.  Less  than  a  year  ago  he 
settled  down  in  Paris.  He  is  not  really  so  old  as  he 
looks — the  affair  evidently  made  a  heavy  mark  on  him. 
There  is  nothing  known  against  him.  He  lives  a  quiet, 
retired  life,  under  his  assumed  name,  and  is  an  ardent 
collector  of  prints  and  engravings  dealing  with  the 
French  Revolution.  That  is  all  that  is  known  about 
him,  the  Prefect  says." 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

"Not   a  very   terrible    record,"    murmured  Antoine, 
"There  are  degrees,  even  amongst  Germans." 


V 


M.  ROBESPIERRE'S  taxi  drew  up  a  hundred  yards  short 
of  the  hotel.  A  few  minutes  later  Antoine's  face  ap- 
peared in  the  open  window.  He  entered  and  imme- 
diately explained  what  he  had  heard  concerning  Herr 
Haase. 

"I  remember  the  scandal  very  well,"  remarked  the  old 
gentleman.  "I  can  only  hope  for  his  sake  that  he  was 
really  the  victim  of  his  friends  and  not  of  his  acts." 

"You  will  have  other  distinguished  company  this 
evening,  besides  the  Prince,"  said  Antoine.  And  he 
explained  what  Bourdot  had  heard  on  the  telephone. 

"The  German  Ambassador,  eh !  It  sounds  very  grave. 
I  wonder  what  it  is  they  have  in  hand.  And  I  wonder 
what  they  require  of  Herr  Haase.  Anyhow  there  is 
nothing  now  but  to  go  and  see.  I  should  imagine  that 
he  is  a  man  with  a  grievance.  I  shall  let  them  do  the 
talking.  Anyhow  it  gives  me  a  feeling  of  security  to 
know  that  you  can  listen  to  anything  they  may  say  on 
the  telephone." 

They  talked  for  some  time  longer,  examining  the 
affair  from  all  possible  points  of  view.  Then  Antoine 
with  a  last  fervent  handshake  got  out  and  the  taxi  drove 
to  the  hotel  door. 

At  the  hotel  bureau  M.  Robespierre  breathed  the 
name  he  was  supposed  to  bear.  A  dapper  young  man, 
who  looked  as  though  he  might  be  a  private  secretary, 
and  who  had  apparently  been  waiting,  came  forward. 

"You  are  expected  upstairs,"  <he  said.  "Will  you 
come  with  me." 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    265 

M.  Robespierre  followed  his  guide  without  a  word, 
noting  as  'he  mounted  the  staircase  that  Bourdot  was 
sitting,  apparently  languid  and  bored,  in  the  hall.  He 
smiled  to  himself  as  the  guide  conducted  him  past  his 
own  bedroom. 

A  moment  later  and  he  was  ushered  through  a  door 
which  was  guarded  on  the  inside  by  a  large  screen.  As 
he  stepped  from  behind  this  he  found  'himself  before  the 
Prince,  who  was  pacing  the  room,  cigarette  in  his  hand. 
The  Prince  came  forward  quickly,  and  held  out  his  hand. 
The  visitor,  after  a  little  gesture  of  hesitation,  took  it. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Baron,"  said  the  Prince, 
speaking  in  German.  "It  is  many  years  since  we  met." 

"Yes.  And  it  is  so  many  years  since  I  spoke  German 
that  I  should  prefer  to  speak  in  French,  and  to  be  ad- 
dressed by  the  name  I  am  here  known  by,"  replied 
M.  Robespierre. 

"Ah!       I   quite  understand."       There   was  just   a 

shade  of  annoyance  in  the  Prince's  tone.      "Naturally. 

No  doubt  in  your  case  I  should  say  the  same,  Herr 

.     Monsieur   Haase."       The   Prince   sat   down. 

"Please  be  seated." 

"You  will  perhaps  wonder  why  I  desired  you  should 
come  and  see  me,"  the  Prince  went  on. 

The  visitor  inclined  Ms  head. 

"There  is  no  need  for  me  to  insist  on  the  tension  which 
prevails  in  Europe.  War  is,  apparently,  inevitable. 
And  at  this  great  moment  in  our  history  Germany  has 
need  of  your  services — as  she  has  need  of  every  good 
German's  services." 

M.  Robespierre  was  still  silent.  The  Prince  looked  at 
him  for  a  few  moments  before  saying  with  deliberation. 

"If  the  crisis  develops  as  it  is  doing  it  is  possible  that 
to-morrow  the  German  Ambassador  will  leave  Paris. 
Those  who  know  the  situation  best  believe  this  to  be 


266      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

almost  certain.  But  though  many  of  us  will  leave  by 
that  train  some  will  be  left  behind.  You  are  one  of 
those  who  can  serve  us  best  by  doing  so.  I  am  author- 
ized to  tell  you  that  when  the  war  is  over  and  we  are 
victorious  the  Emperor  will  be  glad  graciously  to  pardon 
you  and  reinstate  you  in  your  former  position." 

M.  Robespierre  appeared  to  be  thinking  deeply. 

"In  what  way  can  I  serve?"  he  finally  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

The  Prince  stood  up  erect  and  rigid  and  looked  down 
on  his  visitor. 

"First  of  all  will  you  serve?"  he  demanded 
ma  j  estically. 

The  other's  eyes  flashed  as  he  returned  the  Prince's 
gaze  boldly. 

"I  am  willing  to  serve  my  country  against  her  enemies 
in  any  way  possible,  with  or  without  reward,"  was  the ' 
reply. 

"That  is  well  spoken,"  cried  the  Prince.  "The 
Emperor  will  know  how  to  reward.  I  may  tell  you  that 
here,  in  this  hotel,  I  am  in  direct  wireless  communication 
with  Germany.  The  good  Kastner  understands  other 
things  than  how  to  run  an  hotel.  And  your  name 
has  been  specifically  put  forward.  I  received  a  message 
only  last  night  telling  me  to  call  on  your  help  .  .  . " 

"And  how  am  I  to  serve?"  broke  in  the  other. 

"In  this  way,  mon  oher  Baron.  History  is  to  repeat 
itself,  as  it  has  done  so  many  times  before.  Bismarck, 
when  he  altered  the  famous  Ems  despatch,  cast  the 
odium  of  the  last  war  on  to  France.  You  will  remem- 
ber it  well.  We  are  to  do  the  same  thing  again,  in 
another  way.  To-morrow  our  Ambassador  will  leave 
Paris.  There  is  to  be  a  simulated  attempt  on  his  life 
as  he  enters  the  train — he  is  not  to  be  hurt,  of  course — 
and  you  are  the  chosen  instrument  to  do  it." 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    267 

"But  why?" 

"It  is  simple,  but  very  subtle.  No  other  man  could 
possibly  serve  us  so  well.  We  want  an  agent  provo- 
cateur— but  he  must  not  be  a  renegade  Frenchman.  It 
would  be  too  obvious  that  we  had  employed  him.  But 
you  are  a  German  nobleman  with  a  grievance — a  legiti- 
mate grievance,  let  us  say — who  for  many  years  has 
been  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  the  French.  And  if 
you  try  to  shoot  the  German  Ambassador — why,  no- 
body would  think  for  a  moment  of  seeing  in  it  the  hand  of 
Germany.  But  we  could  make  the  very  most  of  the 
fact  that  a  man  enjoying  the  protection  of  the  French 
had  tried  to  assassinate  the  German  Ambassador  at  the 
moment  he  was  leaving  French  soil.  France  would 
start  the  war,  as  she  did  before,  under  a  great  moral 
disadvantage.  You  can  see  the  shock  of  horror  that 
would  run  round  the  world — the  anger  against  France 
that  such  a  thing  could  happen.  And  England,  moral 
and  righteous  England,"  the  Prince  paused  to  laugh 
heartily,  "would  think  very,  very  seriously  about  join- 
ing forces  with  such  a  country.  .  .  >  Now  do  you 
begin  to  see?" 

"It  is  wonderful,"  murmured  the  other,  his  eyes  set  in 
a  fixed  stare.  "It  is  colossal." 

"I  may  say  that  the  idea  was  largely  my  own,"  pur- 
sued the  Prince,  in  the  best  of  humors.  "As  for  you, 
there  will  be  no  danger.  The  French  will  see  in  you 
merely  a  German  suffering  from  a  long-seated  grievance, 
a  long-nursed  idea  of  wrong.  You  will  be  arrested,  that 
is  all.  And  in  a  few  weeks,  when  we  enter  Paris,  you 
will  be  released  and  be  one  of  us  again.  Here  in  this 
very  hotel  the  Emperor  will  reward." 

The  Prince  stood  transfigured,  and  breathing  heavily, 
moved  by  the  proud  emotions  that  surged  within  him. 
The  little  old  figure  that  aat  before  him  looked  up  with 


268      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

an  intense  expression  that  might  have  meant  anything — 
fierce  admiration  or  fierce  loathing.  There  was  silence 
for  a  while.  Then  the  Prince  opened  the  drawer  of  a 
table  and  took  out  a  small  shining  thing. 

"You  see  everything  is  ready  to  the  last  detail,"  he 
went  on,  with  a  smile.  "You  will  fire  two  shots  with 
this  well  over  the  'head  of  the  Ambassador.  I  have 
arranged  that  you  shall  be  overpowered,  not  too  roughly, 
by  members  of  his  Excellency's  suite.  I  am  expecting 
the  Ambassador  every  moment,  and  you  will  be  able  to 
have  a  little  rehearsal  together." 

Almost  mechanically  M.  Robespierre  reached  out  his 
hand  and  took  the  pistol. 

"Handle  it  carefuly,"  laughed  the  Prince,  "both  now 
and  to-morrow." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  von  Gassner 
entered. 

"This  is — Herr  Haase,"  said  the  Prince,  pausing  a 
little  before  the  name.  "Everything  is  understood  and 
agreed  upon." 

Von  Gassner  looked  sharply  at  M.  Robespierre,  who 
had  risen  slowly. 

"I  once  saw  Baron  von  Kuhling,"  he  said,  "but  this 
gentleman  does  not  seem  to  recall  him.  I  remember 
him  as  having  a  duelling  scar  on  the  cheek." 

"But  impossible!  It  must  be!  I  have  told  him 
everything!"  cried  the  Prince. 

"But  you  are  not  Baron  von  Kuhling,  otherwise  Herr 
Haase,"  exclaimed  von  Gassner,  addressing  M.  Robe- 
spierre directly. 

"It  is  quite  true,"  replied  M.  Robespierre  calmly.  "I 
am  a  simple  French  citizen,  and  not  a  disgraced  German 
nobleman.  My  name  is  Robespierre." 

The  Prince  gave  a  shout  of  anger  and  dismay. 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    269 

"Then  how  do  you  come  here?  How  is  it  that  you 
are  in  my  room  impersonating  another  man?" 

"It  is  a  happy  accident  which  I  will  not  bother  to  ex- 
plain. It  is  sufficient  that  I  know  all  your  dastardly 
plan  against  my  country.  It  is  truly  German."  M. 
Robespierre's  tone  -was  very  cold  and  cutting. 

The  Prince's  face  went  white  and  distorted  with 
anger,  and  he  slowly  raised  his  clenched  fists  to  his  head. 

"Gently,"  said  von  Gassner.  "We  must  see  quietly 
to  this." 

But  the  Prince's  anger  exploded. 

"You  hound,  you  miserable  hound!"  he  cried,  and 
leaping  on  M.  Robespierre  bore  'him  to  the  ground. 
There  was  a  muffled  report. 

"Oh,  meln  Gott,  mein  lieber  Gott,"  exclaimed  the 
Prince,  and  rolled  off  his  victim  on  to  the  carpet. 

Von  Gassner  rushed  forward  and  bent  over  his  master, 
with  a  cry  of  dismay. 

yi 

THE  Prefect  of  Police  had  for  a  long  time  past  taken  a 
considerable  interest  in  the  Hotel  Grand  Imperial.  So 
that  when  he  received  a  letter  from  Antoine  written  on 
the  notepaper  of  that  august  establishment  he  was  not 
slow  to  appreciate  the  point. 

"What  is  our  friend  doing  there?"  he  mused.  "He 
must  be  on  the  track  of  something." 

Half  an  hour  later  it  was  reported  to  him  that  a  cer- 
tain unassuming  visitor  who  was  staying  at  the  hotel 
was  none  other  than  Prince  Ernst  of  Saxe-Wolmar. 
The  Prefect  began  to  put  two  and  two  together.  He 
decided  to  make  the  hotel  the  objective  of  one  of  the 
nocturnal  strolls  which  it  was  his  frequent  custom  to 
take  round  Paris. 


270       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

Consequently  some  ten  minutes  after  M.  Robespierre 
had  disappeared  into  the  Prince's  suite  there  was  knock 
on  the  door  of  Antoine's  salon  and  the  Prefect  stepped 
into  the  room.  He  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 
Antoine  and  Bourdot,  who  stared  at  him  in  some 
dismay. 

"I  was  just  passing,"  said  the  Prefect,  with  a  gentle 
smile,  "and  it  occurred  to  me  that  you  might  want  a 
little  information  on  the  matter  you  consulted  me 
about." 

"It  was  excessively  kind  of  you,"  said  Antoine,  "but 
you  told  me  all  I  wanted  to  know." 

"Permettez,"  said  the  Prefect,  as  if  he  had  not  heard, 
and  produced  a  cigarette  case.  He  evidently  intended 
to  stay  awhile. 

Antoine  endeavored  to  hide  his  emotions  and  engage 
in  polite  conversation.  The  talk  inevitably  drifted  to 
the  question  of  war.  It  was  interrupted  by  a  tele- 
phone ring  that  caused  Antoine  to  sit  bolt  upright  in 
his  chair.  Then  with  as  little  show  as  possible  of  haste 
he  stepped  into  his  bedroom. 

There  was  a  tense  feeling  in  the  air  and  the  Prefect 
and  Bourdot  sat  quite  silent.  No  sound  came  from 
Antoine.  A  minute  later  he  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
his  face  white  and  startled.  It  was  obvious  that  he 
had  heard  something  grave.  He  looked  at  the  Prefect 
and  appeared  to  be  turning  something  over  in  his  mind. 

"There  is  something  you  should  know  at  once,"  he 
said.  "Prince  Ernst  of  Saxe-Wolmar  who  is  staying 
in  this  hotel  has  just  been  shot." 

The  Prefect  bounded  out  of  his  chair. 

"Vous  dites!" 

"I  have  just  heard  something  on  the  telephone.  I 
can't  explain  it  all  now.  There  was  some  hurried  con- 
versation in  German  which  I  did  not  understand.  Then 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    271 

a  moment  later  a  voice  I  knew  said  "The  Prince  has  been 
shot." 

"Where  is  he?"  cried  the  Prefect. 

"In  the  suite  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  there,"  replied 
Antoine  pointing. 

The  Prefect  was  out  in  the  corridor  in  a  flash,  the 
others  following  him.  As  they  stepped  through  the 
doorway  a  distinguished  looking  man  came  walking 
towards  them.  All  three  recognized  him  at  once.  It 
was  the  German  Ambassador.  With  a  little  start  of 
surprise  'he  recognized  the  Prefect  at  the  same  moment. 
They  had  been  together  on  many  cordial  occasions.  It 
was,  on  both  sides,  an  awkward  meeting. 

"I  am  just  calling  on  a  friend,"  said  the  Ambassador 
with  a  smile,  after  a  mutual  greeting,  and  made  as  if  to 
pass  on. 

"One  moment,  Your  Excellency,"  said  the  Prefect. 
"I  have  just  heard  there  has  been  an  accident — to  Prince 
Ernst." 

The  Ambassador's  eyebrows  went  up  in  surprise  and 
dismay. 

"An  accident — to  Prince  Ernst.    I  don't  understand." 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  as  well  if  we  go  in  together — 
pardon  me."  And  with  that  the  Prefect  led  the  way. 

The  door  was  locked.  It  was  opened  by  M.  Robes- 
pierre, wiho  stood  there  with  a  revolver  in  his  hand. 

"Come  in — everybody,"  he  said  calmly,  and  waved 
them  in  with  a  nonchalant  sweep  of  the  weapon. 

The  Prince  was  lying  on  the  carpet  in  the  center  of 
the  room,  where  he  had  fallen.  Von  Gassner  stood  a 
little  distance  back,  his  arms  folded,  silent  and  motion- 
less. It  was  the  little  Egyptologist,  revolver  in  hand 
and  quite  naturally  calm,  who  dominated  the  scene. 

"My  God,  who  has  done  this?      Is  he  dead?"  cried 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

the  Ambassador,  rushing  forward  to  the  prostrate 
figure. 

"He  is  apparently  quite  and  absolutely  dead,"  came 
the  level  tones  of  M.  Robespierre.  "He  did  it  himself. 
And  when  your  Excellency  has  finished  examining  the 
deceased  I  have  something  important  to  say  to  you." 

The  Ambassador  stood  up  with  a  dazed  expression  on 
his  face  and  looked  hard  at  M.  Robespierre. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked. 

"That  does  not  matter  for  the  moment.  But  at  least 
I  know  who  you  are,  and  was  expecting  your  visit.  By 
an  accident  which  need  not  be  explained  I  was  here  to- 
night in  the  place  of  Herr  Haase — otherwise  Baron 
von  Kuhling.  And  I  am  able  to  tell  you  that  the  inter- 
esting incident  which  it  was  proposed  should  occur  when 
you  make  your  departure  from  Paris  to-morrow  will  not 
now  take  place." 

"I  do  not  understand.  You  say  this  dreadful  tragedy 
was — was  self-inflicted." 

"Not  precisely.  It  was  more  an  accident.  The 
Prince,  believing  that  I  was  Herr  Haase,  had  handed 
me  this  pistol  to  examine.  A  few  moments  later  he 
learned  that  I  was  not  Herr  Haase.  In  his  surprise 
and  anger  at  the  announcement  he  flung  himself  on  me, 
threw  me  to  the  ground  and  the  pistol — which  was  still 
in  my  hand — went  off.  The  chief  point,  as  I  have 
already  said,  is  that  to-morrow's  demonstration  will  not 
take  place." 

"I  know  nothing  of  any  demonstration  to-morrow," 
said  the  Ambassador  harshly.  "But  as  to  the  terrible 
thing  which  has  happened  to  this  poor  young  man,  we 
must  hear  more  of  this.  It  is  indeed  fortunate,  my  dear 
Prefect,  that  you  should  be  here.  I  cannot  do  better 
than  leave  this  tragic  affair — and  also  this  mysterious 
individual  who  appears  to  have  had  so  much  to  do  with 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    273 

it — in  your  hands.  I  am  sure  you  will  soon  arrive  at 
the  exact  truth.  Will  you  please  report  anything  you 
may  learn  to  me  at  the  Embassy.  It  seems  to  me  that 
this  may  mean  a  very  difficult  incident  of  the  gravest 
international  importance — especially  in  view  of  the 
present  situation." 

"Very  good,  your  Excellency,"  returned  the  Prefect 
with  studied  politeness.  "And  the  unfortunate  Prince? 
What  shall  we  do  with  him  ?" 

"I  will  make  all  arrangements  as  to  that.  You, 
Count,"  he  turned  to  von  Gassner,  "had  better  come 
with  me.  You  will  of  course  be  entirely  at  the  disposal 
of  the  French  authorities  should  they  desire  to  ask  you 
anything."  The  Ambassador  cast  a  last  mournful 
glance  at  the  figure  on  the  carpet,  and  was  gone. 

As  he  went  through  the  doorway  Inspector  Sauvage 
appeared  there.  His  chief  beckoned  him,  and  gave 
some  rapid  instructions.  Then  he  approached  M. 
Robespierre. 

"I  am  afraid  you  must  consider  yourself  under  arrest 
until  this  affair  is  more  satisfactorily  explained,"  he 
said. 

"With  pleasure,"  returned  the  other.  "Please  take 
this."  And  he  handed  over  the  revolver.  "And  I  think 
that,  together  with  my  friend  Poiret,  I  can  explain 
everything  to  you." 


vn 

THEY  sat  in  Antoine's   salon.      M.  Robespierre   and 
Antoine  had  told  all  they  knew. 

"All  that  you  say  is  obviously  true,"  said  the  Prefect. 
"But  it  is   a  dreadful  thing  when  private  individuals 


274       THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

meddle  in  the  gravest  international  crises.  Heavens ! 
What  a  situation." 

"He  was  a  miserable  wretch,  and  deserved  to  die," 
said  M.  Robespierre  calmly.  "I  am  by  no  means  sorry 
that  my  hand  did  it." 

"Possibly,"  said  the  Prefect.  "But  do  you  not  see 
that  the  incident  they  were  seeking  is  provided,  and  that 
the  situation  is  aggravated  tenfold.  What  matter 
what  plot  they  were  hatching!  We  may  never  be  able 
to  convince  the  world  of  it.  But  they  will  make  the 
death  of  this  princeling — bon  Dieu,  what  will  they  not 
do  with  it!  It  is  a  desperate  business.  I  dare  not 
think  of  what  may  come  of  it.  Bon  Dleu!  Quelle 
situation!" 

The  Prefect  sprang  up  and  began  to  pace  the  floor 
agitatedly. 

"You  should  have  reported  this  affair  of  the  Prince 
and  Herr  Haase  to  me  immediately,"  he  burst  out. 
"This  should  have  been  no  mere  question  of  newspaper 
enterprise.  It  is  too  big — it  is  war — everything.  The 
Foreign  Office  will  go  mad !  Here  we  are  with  the  death 
of  this  Prince  on  our  hands.  How  it  is  to  be  explained? 
They  may  even  declare  war  on  this  very  point." 

There  was  silence  in  the  room.  Antoine  felt  that  he 
was  being  unjustly  reproached.  But  it  was  hardly  the 
moment  to  interrupt  the  Prefect.  And  indeed  the  situ- 
ation was  immensely  grave. 

There  came  the  buzz  of  a  telephone  bell  in  the  still- 
ness. It  was  Antoine's  own  instrument  ringing,  and 
not  the  other.  He  picked  up  the  receiver  and  heard 
Morissot's  voice  asking  for  him  urgently.  Antoine 
announced  himself. 

"Well,  it  is  all  over,"  came  Morissot's  voice. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"It  is  war.      Their  patrols  crossed  the  frontier  late 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    275 

this  afternoon.  There  is  no  drawing  back.  Germany 
has  not  yet  declared  war  on  France,  but  she  has 
started  it." 

"Hold  a  minute,"  said  Antoine.  He  told  the  news 
to  the  others.  It  was  received  in  absolute  silence.  For 
some  moments  no  one  spoke.  It  was  the  tensest 
moment  in  the  life  of  every  man  present,  even  though 
the  events  of  the  evening  had  told  them  surely  what  was 
coming.  Then  M.  Robespierre's  voice  was  heard: 

"At  any  rate  that  delivers  us  from  this  infamous 
princeling.  There  is  nothing  for  them  to  do  but  to 
take  him  back  with  them." 

"Thank  God  for  that,"  said  Antoine  fervently. 

There  was  an  immense  feeling  of  relief  in  the  room  at 
this.  The  war  had  not  yet  reached  them.  But  the 
incubus  of  the  dead  Prince  had  been  heavy  on  their 
minds,  and  its  removal  left  them  feeling  comparatively 
elated.  Even  the  Prefect  relaxed  a  little. 

Antoine  heard  Morissot's  voice  on  the  telephone 
again : 

"I  have  been  thinking,  mon  cher  Antoine.  This  is  a 
time  when  all  Frenchmen,  of  whatever  kind,  must  pull 
together.  To-night  I  have  written  an  article  in  praise 
of  the  Government." 

In  spite  of  all  that  had  happened,  Antoine  could  not 
restrain  a  laugh. 

"Nothing  short  of  a  European  war  would  have  made 
you  do  that,  mon  cher  ami,"  he  replied. 


VIII 

MONSIEUR  PROSPER  LEBLAKC  came  out  of  the  Sante 
Prison  one  bright  morning  in  August.  The  slow, 
interminable  inquiry  into  his  tangled  financial  affairs 


276      FHE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

had  left  him  a  changed  and  'broken  man.  Gone  was  the 
lustrous,  confident  demeanor  of  the  prosperous  homme 
d'affaires.  He  was  not  yet  a  convicted  man.  He  and 
his  friends — same  of  them  men  of  influence  who  were 
anxious  for  their  own  sakes  that  nothing  should  hap- 
pen— 'had  fought  too  fiercely  for  that.  The  best 
lawyers  had  been  engaged.  Therefore  the  affaire 
Leblanc  promised  to  go  on  forever  without  ever  coming 
to  trial. 

And  with  the  great  change  that  had  come  over  France 
in  the  first  few  days  of  the  war  his  friends  had  succeeded 
in  obtaining  permission  for  his  temporary  release.  It 
was  not  difficult  to  do.  Somehow  the  finances  of 
M.  Leblanc  had  suddenly  seemed  not  to  matter. 

Friends  met  him  at  the  prison.  He  seemed  listless 
and  dispirited,  but  as  soon  as  possible  escaped  them,  and 
drove  away. 

His  new-found  liberty  meant  little  to  him.  For  a 
long  time  past  in  prison  he  had  brooded  over  one  thing. 
He  had  become  a  man  with  an  idee  fixe.  His  thoughts 
constantly  dwelt  on  Antoine  Poiret,  the  man  who  had 
prospered  on  the  ruins  of  one  of  his  own  enterprises. 
For  some  reason  he  could  not  have  explained,  this  galled 
him  more  than  all  the  rest  of  his  misfortunes.  And  he 
had  coldly  determined  to  shoot  Antoine  at  the  first 
opportunity.  It  was  the  one  thought  in  life  which  gave 
him  any  pleasure. 

Now,  immediately  after  leaving  prison,  he  stopped 
his  cab  at  the  first  gunsmith's  shop  he  saw  and  bought 
a  revolver  and  cartridges.  Then  he  drove  on  to  the 
offices  of  La  Lumiere. 

He  knew  that  war  had  already  begun.  He  was 
conscious  that  the  streets  and  the  boulevards,  with  their 
many  shuttered  shops,  had  a  curious  and  lifeless  look. 
But  these  things  made  little  or  no  impression  on  his 


THE  GREATEST  ADVENTURE    277 

brain.  He  was  conscious  only  of  his  own  affairs,  and 
particularly  of  the  one  in  hand. 

He  arrived  at  the  office  and  walked  boldly  upstairs. 
It  was  morning  but  even  so  they  were  strangely  quiet. 
He  walked  from  room  to  room  and  found  nobody. 
Descending  the  stairs  again  he  found  Jean,  the  old  door- 
keeper, coming  up.  M.  Leblanc,  unrecognized,  ques- 
tioned him.  Practically  everybody  was  away,  mobilized, 
said  Jean;  M.  Poiret  amongst  them.  The  paper  was 
coming  out  with  the  greatest  difficulty. 

M.  Leblanc  wandered  dully  down  the  boulevard.  He 
was  suddenly  deprived  of  'his  grim  purpose,  and  had 
nothing  to  put  in  its  place.  At  the  corner  of  the  Place 
de  1'Opera  the  heartening  sound  of  trumpets  caught 
his  ear.  A  battalion  of  infantry  came  marching 
bravely  by,  the  men  loaded  with  the  trappings  of  war, 
their  long  bayonets  glittering  in  tihe  sun. 

M.  Leblanc  warmed  a  little  as  he  looked  at  them,  but 
he  was  still  a  man  wrapped  in  his  own  unhappy  dreams. 
And  then  a  number  on  a  tunic  collar  caught  his  eye. 
Bon  Dieu,  but  it  was  the  127th  of  the  Line,  his  old  regi- 
ment! His  dull  eyes  lighted  up  as  he  thought  of  the 
life  in  barracks  in  the  old  days.  Where  were  his  old 
companions  of  the  regiment  now?  He  became  conscious 
that  the  air  was  throbbing  with  martial  music;  that 
people  were  cheering,  that  girls  were  throwing  flowers 
and  kisses ;  that  here  and  there  women  were  weeping  and 
that  the  soldiers  were  throwing  back  the  salutes  and 
affection  of  the  crowd  with  happy  laughs  and  waves  of 
the  arm. 

M.  Leblanc,  weaver  of  many  financial  webs,  cynical 
homme  d'affaires,  felt  a  dampness  in  his  eyes.  By- 
Heaven!  but  these  bright  young  men  were  off  to  fight 
the  enemy,  the 'hated  German  from  beyond  the  Rhine, 
the  everlasting  Prussian!  France  was  at  war! 


278      THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ANTOINE 

There  came  a  wave  of  cheering  that  caught  him  up 
in  its  rush  and  started  him  cheering  too.  And  with  the 
tumult  at  its  height  he  saw  a  soldier,  his  red  kepi  set 
jauntily  on  his  head,  whose  face  he  knew.  It  was 
Antoine  Poiret! 

M.  Leblanc  stopped  cheering  and  'his  hand  went 
instinctively  to  his  pocket. 

"Poiret!  bon  Dieu,  and  in  my  old  regiment !"  he 
shouted. 

In  the  multitude  of  sounds  Antoine  caught  his  own 
name  and  turned  his  head.  Their  eyes  met  and  said 
many  things.  But  for  Antoine  the  past  was  dead  and 
finished  with.  He  was  off  to  war.  He  waved  his  hand 
in  farewell. 

M.  Leblanc  plucked  off  his  hat  and  waved  it  in  reply. 

"Hurrah  for  the  127th  of  the  Line,"  he  shouted. 
"Hurrah  for  the  old  regiment !  Vive  la  France !" 

And  Antoine  had  gone  on  liis  greatest  adventure. 

THE  END 


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